


all the tragic we've been through

by deadratz



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fist Fights, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadratz/pseuds/deadratz
Summary: Following their killing of Francis Dolarhyde, Hannibal and Will go on the run. Will has a hard time understanding Hannibal, and what events between them mean for their confusing relationship. While he deals with figuring out their future, he can't help but hold on to the past, too.*On hiatus indefinitely
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 51
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a story by the same name that I started and then deleted because I was unhappy with it. It's fairly similar to start off with, but with some key differences, so if you already read the first few chapters when I had it posted before, I encourage you to give it another shot. 
> 
> Title from the song 'Paradise Lost a Poem by John Milton' by The Used.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.
> 
> ***This will likely be slow to update, apologies in advance***

When Will Graham holds on tight to Hannibal Lecter, closes his eyes, and pulls their embracing bodies off the edge of the cliff, he expects to fall. Will Graham expects to fall, and he expects to hit the water, and he expects to die, either on impact, or by drowning. He expects all of this, but instead of any of these things, Will feels his back slam into the jagged cliff wall. His head narrowly misses being cracked on the hard surface, and he is confused. He is confused because this is not at all what he expected to happen. His back is pressed against the cliff, his arms are wrapped around Hannibal’s neck, and Hannibal is pressed against his front, arms raised above both of their heads. 

Over the sound of waves crashing below, he barely hears Hannibal’s strained voice in his ear. “What was the result you were expecting to achieve, Will?” 

_ Not this _ , Will thinks bitterly. He can feel his grip begin to slip, the blood on both his hands and Hannibal’s neck are cause for a slick surface to try and hold onto. Hannibal is not holding onto him at all, the arms stretched above them are because his hands are grasping the edge of the cliff. His knuckles have to be white underneath all of the blood drying on them, and Will can’t see it, but he knows. There’s no way they wouldn’t be, not with the way his fists are tightly clenched on the edge. 

Will tightens his grip around Hannibal’s neck, knowing that it is the only thing keeping him from plunging to his death. Seconds ago it seemed like a great idea, for him and Hannibal to both fall to their ends, but in that moment, he realizes he doesn’t want to die anymore. He’s being given a second chance in the form of Hannibal’s superhuman strength, and he’s going to take that second chance and never let go of it. 

He feels so stupid, having thought Hannibal would actually let this end on anyone’s terms but his own. Hannibal does not play like that, and Will should have expected this outcome over any others. Will considers their situation for a second, and wonders how exactly Hannibal plans on getting out of this. He does not even see how it is possible that Hannibal was able to grab onto the edge of the cliff at the last second to stop their descent. 

Shaking from the lowering adrenaline levels and the blood loss, Will tries to take steady breaths to calm himself down, but it does nothing, his breathing just coming out ragged and wheezing instead. Among the painful breaths and the shaking, he manages to whisper Hannibal’s name. 

“Hold on, Will. It will all be okay,” Hannibal responds. His usually calm voice catches on the emotions he’s feeling and Will picks up on it. 

He wants to trust Hannibal to return them to safety because Will is not letting go anytime soon, so if he goes down, Hannibal would too, and Hannibal knows nothing if not self preservation. The emotion in Hannibal’s voice causes worry to creep up on him, though. Hannibal doesn’t show emotion, doesn’t let anything slip into his voice that isn’t extremely calculated. Except for where Will tends to be concerned. 

Will wraps his legs around Hannibal’s waist, the pain in his stabbed shoulder is becoming too much to support all of his weight. He feels panic rising in every inch of his body, but he tries to push it down just as Hannibal begins to pull them up. Will takes a chance when Hannibal gains foot holds, and lets go of his neck, keeping his legs firmly wrapped about Hannibal’s waist. He twists his body and grips the edge of the cliff between Hannibal’s hands and when he’s certain he can pull himself up, he does, lessening the load on Hannibal’s straining muscles. 

A failed attempt to stand up once he’s safely over the edge causes him to collapse to his hands and knees, breathing heavily with his head hanging down between his arms. All points of contact between his body and the gravelly ground below him sting where rocks dig into his skin. He watches the blood drip from the stab wound on his cheek and splash down next to his hands, and the reality of what happened starts to set in. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to forget, but all he sees behind closed eyes is more blood. 

Will tries to compose himself, taking deep breaths that just come out ragged and painful. Every new wound is throbbing, his lungs aren’t working properly, and his heart is pounding out of his chest. He feels a firm hand on his back and turns his head to see Hannibal sitting on his knees next to him. Hannibal’s free hand was putting pressure on the exit wound from Dolarhyde’s bullet, leaving the entry wound on his back to freely bleed while he attempts to comfort Will.

Letting go of all of his self control, Will throws himself at Hannibal, arms wrapping around his waist, and hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He feels Hannibal’s hands on his shoulders and Will can’t help but start to cry. 

“You,” Will gasps out between sobs. “fucking bastard. We were supposed to die! Now what are we supposed to do?” 

Hannibal brings a hand to Will’s head and runs his fingers through Will’s hair as a soothing gesture. “Now we live, Will,” Hannibal says firmly. 

He continues to run his fingers through Will’s blood soaked hair as Will attempts to stop his trembling. Will holds onto Hannibal like his life depends on it for what feelings like the tenth time this evening. Hannibal lets Will take his time, and finally he takes a final deep breath and lets go of Hannibal’s waist and sits up. 

Hannibal and Will look at each other for a moment, sitting on their knees facing each other. Eventually Hannibal checks the watch on his wrist and stands up. 

“We do not have much time, Will. I suspect it won’t be long before the FBI finds this house. We must go quickly,” Hannibal tells him, a sense of urgency in his voice. He doesn’t even ask Will if he’s planning on running away with him, he just assumes Will is agreeable to the idea. Will doesn’t protest as Hannibal stands and holds out his hands to pull Will to his feet.

Standing on solid ground for what feels like the first time in hours, though it was only a matter of minutes, Will sways on his feet, a rush of dizziness and nausea overcoming him. He blames it on the blood loss and the fact that he just murdered someone and wants to run away with a serial killer. 

Hannibal continues to hold one of Will’s hands as they walk past Francis Dolarhyde and his growing pool of blood. Will averts his eyes when they pass the corpse, not wanting a reminder of what he had felt so good doing. Will squeezes Hannibal’s hand tight and leans into his side slightly as they make their way into the house. 

“You have a plan, right?” Will asks, looking at Hannibal. 

Hannibal nods, but doesn’t say a word. 

_ Okay _ . Will thinks.  _ Don’t share it with me then. It’s not like I should know it, or anything. _

As if reading Will’s mind, Hannibal finally speaks, “Just trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Hannibal leads Will to one of the bedrooms and pushes him to sit down on the bed. “Stay here. I will be back in a moment.” 

Hannibal drops Will’s hand, and Will tries to stand up in protest, but is met with a hand pushing his shoulder again, and another cupping his cheek, carefully avoiding the stab wounds on both. Will looks into Hannibal’s pleading eyes and surrenders. He settles back down onto the bed and watches as Hannibal walks away into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. Will lays back and closes his eyes. He can hear Hannibal rummaging in cabinets, can hear the water running, and then feels a wet cloth on his face, wiping away the drying blood. 

Will hisses and his eyes fly open when the cloth bumps the wound on his face, but relaxes again after he sees the apologetic look in Hannibal’s dark eyes. Hannibal unbuttons Will’s shirt with gentle fingers, and pushes it over Will’s shoulders and arms, and lets it fall on the bed behind him. Hannibal’s light touch dances over the wound on Will’s shoulder and Will feels a breath hitch in his throat.

It all feels too intimate, the way Hannibal is touching him and looking at him with a fond smile on his face. Will wants to cover up and leave the room and deal with his injuries himself, but he can’t bring himself to move away from Hannibal. 

“I need to stitch these up. I’ll need your help with the wound on my back, but I can stitch up my front myself. I believe the bullet missed every organ,” Hannibal whispers. Will just nods and watches as Hannibal reaches into a medical bag that he set on the floor. The entire time Hannibal stitches his wounds, he grits his teeth and grips Hannibal’s thigh, nails digging into the fabric cover flesh. If it hurts, Hannibal makes no indication and allows Will to keep doing it. 

With steady hands, Hannibal stitches the wound on Will’s cheek first, then puts a gauze bandage over it before moving onto the stab wound on his shoulder. Will stops Hannibal’s hands before he can start on the second wound. 

“Please, take care of yourself first. It won’t do us any good if you end up unconscious from blood loss,” Will tells him.

“Very well.” Hannibal hands Will all of the tools and removes his own blood soaked shirt before turning around. He instructs Will on exactly how to stitch the wound and Will does it with nowhere near steady hands. When he’s satisfied with Will’s work, Hannibal finishes the job on his front and puts gauze bandages on both. He finishes helping Will and then disappears out of the room again.

When Hannibal returns, he’s carrying several bottles of water and tells Will to drink as much as he can, taking one for himself before going to crouch in front of the closet. Will drinks a bottle and a half, realizing how overly thirsty he is. 

Hannibal is opening a safe and removing stacks of cash, as well as several manila envelopes, which he carefully places in a duffel bag next to him.

“You may want to change, Will.” 

Will nods and joins Hannibal at the closet, picking out a sweater and pants that look like they’ll fit him. Hannibal sets aside something for himself and then starts throwing clothes into the bag as well. 

“Do you have your cell phone?” Hannibal asks before Will can leave the room to change in the bathroom. 

Will feels the pockets of his pants and finds it. “Yes.”

“I should like to use it when we are a safe distance away if that is okay? Then we should dispose of it after.” Hannibal doesn’t look up at Will as he speaks, and Will just walks back to Hannibal and sets the cell phone on the floor next to the duffel bag.

He won’t need it anymore. He won’t be calling any of the numbers in his contacts ever again.

“I am surprised you are not calling the police to come apprehend me. You can go back home to your wife and child and forget about me again,” Hannibal says, finally looking at Will. 

“I never forgot about you, Hannibal,” Will admits. “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

“So you will be leaving with me, then?”

Will hesitates. The time to make a decision is now, and whatever he decides cannot be taken back. He thinks of how alive he’s felt in the hours he’s been with Hannibal, how going back to Molly would never let him feel this way ever again. She doesn’t see him like Hannibal does, she doesn’t understand, and all he’ll ever do for the rest of their lives is wish he had gone. 

“Yes.” Is all Will says. His decision has been made. 

Both men changed their clothes in silence, neither actually bothering to leave the room to give the other privacy. Will supposes they’re beyond that. Hannibal looks Will over once they’re dressed and seems satisfied by what he sees. He asks Will to grab the duffle bag from the floor by the closet as he picks up the medical bag. 

Will does as he is told and follows Hannibal back into the kitchen, where Hannibal opens the fridge and takes out several more plastic bottles of water and adds them to the bag he now has over his shoulder.

Will watches Hannibal as he moves around the kitchen collecting canned food and whatever else. He wishes he could know what is going on, what Hannibal’s plan could possibly be, but he knows he needs to trust Hannibal. Hannibal is silent as he moves through the kitchen, and Will finds himself wishing the man would say something to fill the silence. Before Will had agreed to help Jack with the case, Will hadn’t thought he’d ever speak to Hannibal again. He wasn’t happy with that, per se, though he had accepted it, but now Will longs to hear the man’s voice. He feels so far away from Hannibal now, despite being just feet away. The intimacy that had followed the demise of Francis Dolarhyde, and had lingered when they were stitching each other up, is now a distant memory, and Will knows he’s starting to lose his grip on the present, that he’s starting to retreat into his mind. Not even an hour has passed since Dolarhyde took his last breath, and yet Will feels it has been days. He’s exhausted, he’s in pain, and he just wants to take a nap.

Bedelia’s words come back to him while he sits there. He realizes, yes he does ache for Hannibal. In a way he has never ached for anyone in his entire life. The man who framed him for murder, manipulated him endlessly, tried to kill him more than once, killed Beverly, Abigail, tried to kill Jack and Alana, but Will aches for him and it’s painful. Every tragic event in his life in the last several years goes right back to Hannibal. Here Will is, though, ignoring all of it and planning on running away with him.

Lost in thought about what this means about him, Will doesn’t notice Hannibal stop moving, and definitely doesn’t hear what Hannibal says to him. After a moment, Will looks up to find Hannibal staring at him expectantly. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go,” Hannibal repeats. 

“Oh. Yeah. Where are we going?” Will asks.

“We can discuss it later. For now, just trust me.” Hannibal reaches out for one of Will’s hands and they walk hand in hand out into the night.

Hannibal leads them down a trail near the house and Will is cold and shivering, the only warmth being where their hands are connected. He wants to lean closer into Hannibal’s side, but he doesn’t know how well received that would be, if at all. Hannibal doesn’t say a word to Will the entire time they walk, and Will wonders if Hannibal is trying to conserve energy.

For someone who has been shot and nearly thrown off a cliff, Hannibal is faring quite well, Will thinks. Hannibal leads them far off into the night and when they’re several miles from the house, he takes out Will’s phone and drops his hand to walk a few feet away. Will doesn’t listen as Hannibal makes his calls, just watches as Hannibal finally removes the SIM card and battery, then breaks the phone. Will feels no loss at the electronic and all of his contacts being thrown far into the woods, and Hannibal grabs his hand again to keep leading them farther away.

In the distance, Will sees a boat harbor and his step falters for a second. Hannibal gives his hand a squeeze and keeps moving towards the docks. Will should have figured they would be leaving by boat, and he doesn’t know why he’s surprised by it. He thinks this is a terrible idea, that the FBI will most definitely search the water for them. All he can do is remind himself he’s supposed to trust Hannibal and push forward. 

Hannibal stops at a decent sized boat and drops Will’s hand to climb over the rail. He then grabs Will’s hand again to help him over, even though Will knows he is fully capable of getting into a boat himself. Hannibal hands the duffel bag to Will and tells him to bring them below deck, which Will does while Hannibal gets them ready to leave. 

The cabin below deck is quite spacious, more than Will’s own boat. There’s a small sitting area next to a kitchenette, and down past that there’s a bedroom. Will notices there’s only one bed, though large enough for both men to sleep on if they needed to. There’s an armchair next to the bathroom door. Will doesn’t waste much time taking in his surroundings before he’s going back up the steps to find Hannibal.

He finds Hannibal sitting at the wheel of the boat, moving out of the spot at the dock and getting them into open water. Will sits down next to him and hesitates before he drops his head to lean it against Hannibal’s shoulder. When Hannibal doesn’t protest, Will doesn’t move. It’s hard to tell exactly where they stand with each other, with so few words spoken about the nature of their relationship, but it is apparent that Hannibal is more than fine with their close proximity. 

Will thinks back to earlier when they held onto each other after killing Dolarhyde. Will wanted to kiss Hannibal then, as they stared into each other’s eyes. He had seen Hannibal’s eyes dart down to his lips, and instead of leaning forward to connect their mouths, Will just dropped his head to Hannibal’s shoulder. And then he tried to kill them. Now, if Will still wants that kiss, he does not think it is likely for Hannibal to reciprocate, not after that. The previous emotions that dominated their blood embrace were hungry and lustful, but now it feels different.

Before Will had felt electrified, had felt a feral energy overcome him, and every point of contact between them burned his skin, but now he feels calm, feels a softness and fondness radiating between them, but there’s a hint of anger swimming under the surface. He doesn’t know where his own emotions end and Hannibal’s begin. Will thinks he feels angry with himself for deciding to leave behind a chance at a normal life, but maybe it’s Hannibal. Maybe Hannibal is angry with Will for trying to deny him his life. Will doesn’t want to push it. 

Finally after maybe minutes of silence, Will knows he’ll have to be the first to speak. Hannibal would,  _ could _ , go years without speaking if he needed to, Will knows that. “Where are we going?”

“Cuba,” Hannibal answers. “I have a house there. I don’t believe the FBI will look to the water for us just yet, so we should be just fine.”

Hannibal yawns and Will picks his head off the shoulder it was resting on. “Go get some sleep, I can take over here.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, Hannibal, I know how to sail a boat,” Will retorts. Hannibal stands without another word and goes below deck, leaving his trust in Will to not turn him in. Maybe Hannibal knows Will is tired of denying the connection they have, or maybe Hannibal just does not care what happens one way or another, but it doesn’t matter to Will. 

Will takes them South as fast as the boat will allow, getting them out of the Chesapeake Bay area and aiming for the safety of Cuba. It’s chilly out on the water, and Will wishes he had a jacket, but he ignores the cold and keeps going.

It’s several hours later when Hannibal returns, the sun high in the sky. He puts a hand on Will’s shoulder, and Will looks up at him, his eyes burning from tiredness. Hannibal lifts his hand to carefully peel back the bandage on Will’s cheek, checking to make sure there are no signs of infection and that he isn’t bleeding through the stitches. 

“Come to bed, Will. We’re far enough for now,” Hannibal says softly. Will considers Hannibal’s words, and realizes it means Hannibal wants them both to sleep in the bed together, not that Hannibal is going to take a shift at the helm. 

Being reminded of the concept of sleep causes Will’s exhaustion to hit him like a bag of bricks, and he decides he does not care if they get caught while the boat sits idly as they sleep. He shuts off the boat’s engine and drops the anchor, then follows Hannibal below deck, swaying on his feet as he moves. 

There’s a pair of pajamas sitting on the bed and Will takes them into the bathroom and changes. He sees an unopened toothbrush sitting on the counter and feels instant relief at the sight. He’s careful to avoid the wound on his cheek, but there’s still pain when he opens his mouth wider and it pulls. There’s a painful burning sensation when toothpaste gets into the inside of the wound and he winces. 

When he finally emerges from the bathroom, Hannibal is sitting on the bed with a bottle of water in his hands. He gives it to Will, and Will nods his thanks before opening it and drinking as much as he can in one go. Will sits down on the bed next to Hannibal and they turn to look at each other.

Hannibal lifts a hand to cup Will’s injured cheek, his touch light as possible, but Will leans into it, wanting contact between them. He grimaces when his cheek presses too hard into Hannibal’s hand and Hannibal pulls away instantly. Will misses the contact, but makes no move to try and touch Hannibal himself. 

Will lays down on his side and faces Hannibal, who is now laying on his back. Will pulls the covers up over them both and watches Hannibal next to him. Hannibal just stares blankly at the ceiling and Will wonders if he’s done something wrong.

Will can’t tell any of the things that Hannibal is feeling at this moment, and that bothers Will. Where Will usually has such perfect empathy, Hannibal could always find ways to be a blind spot. Will can’t tell if it is because Hannibal just doesn’t feel anything right then, or if Hannibal is really just that good at hiding his emotions. He is sure Hannibal is capable of emotions, and had seen as much that night Hannibal killed Abigail and left them both on the kitchen floor, and Will had felt it again when they stood on the cliff together the night before. He wants nothing more than for Hannibal to let himself be seen more. In moments like this, he just wants to know if Hannibal was feeling anything.

Craving contact, Will reaches out and grabs one of Hannibal’s hands which are resting clasped on the older man’s stomach. Will can tell that Hannibal tenses for just a second, and Will almost withdraws his hand before Hannibal is relaxing and lacing their fingers together, just as they had done several times the previous night. For a moment, it seems that Hannibal was letting his guard down again, and there was a glimpse of something warm and fond coming from Hannibal. Perhaps it’s even happiness. Will smiles and squeezes Hannibal’s hand. He felt a squeeze back and they lay like that in silence, neither man moving. 

Will feels his eyes grow heavier, his mind ready to shut down, and he stops fighting the exhaustion he has been feeling for hours. Before he can drift off into sleep, he feels Hannibal bring their hands to his lips and place a kiss on Will’s knuckles before bringing them to rest over his heart. Will enjoys the subtle contact between them, but doesn’t push the boundary any more. This is good, this is safe. A small kiss to Will’s knuckles may not mean much to Hannibal, but to Will it means more than enough, like he might possibly be making the right decision. 

He feels a pang of regret and guilt that he just thought that, he thinks of Molly, and Walter. Then the dogs. Will mostly thinks about how he’s leaving behind the dogs for Hannibal. But stronger than the regret and the guilt, he feels the ache he has for Hannibal dull into something less painful as he drifts off, their hands intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this one is taking to update. It's not my top priority right now (go check out the series I'm writing if you haven't), but I'm trying my best. I hope this chapter is good, and makes sense. As I said before, this story is a rewrite and a lot of it is just copy/pasted and I changed the tense, so if anything jumps out that doesn't make sense, lmk but I'll be sure to keep rereading to see if I find anything myself. Enjoy :)

Will wakes up a few times over the next few hours and Hannibal is still sleeping by his side, their fingers no longer interlaced, but their hands still lazily touching on Hannibal’s chest. He wants to roll over and out his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, but he doesn’t want to push their boundaries when he doesn’t even know where they are. After the third or fourth time, Will wakes up to an empty bed. He looks around the room and sees no sign of Hannibal. He thinks maybe Hannibal is above deck, but the boat doesn’t seem to be moving besides the gentle rock of the water. 

There’s a note on Hannibal’s pillow, and Will picks it up to read it, panic creeping up with each word.

_ Will, _

_ I have gone ashore for some supplies. Please take the medications I have set out on the table, minding the dosages I have written next to each bottle. If I have not returned by 6 pm, please go on without me. Either back home, or to one of the properties which you will find addresses for in the envelopes in our bags. I shall hopefully come back to you. _

_ -HL _

Will checks the clock on the wall and it reads 5:37, which sets Will on edge. He doesn’t move from the bed as the minutes pass by, just watching the clock and the door to the bedroom. 5:45 and Will’s chest starts to tighten, his hands start to shake. It starts setting in that he might have to make a decision soon. 5:52 and Will can’t breathe, still watching the clock, focused entirely on the movement of the hands as time starts to run out. He wishes he had a phone he could call Hannibal with, but that’s not possible so all he can do is wait. 

_ My name is Will Graham. I’m on a boat somewhere on the east coast. It’s 5:55 PM and Hannibal should be back to the boat by now.  _ Will tries to use his grounding techniques to no avail. He can’t help but think about Hannibal getting caught, what would happen to him if he does. Will has finally realized that this is what he wanted for himself, he let go of his old life, he doesn’t think he could bear separation from Hannibal at this point. Not again. Not this soon after getting him back.

Completely focused on the clock, now just about to hit 5:58, Will doesn’t notice Hannibal come through the door until there’s a hand on his back. Will looks up, eyes glassy, breathing ragged. 

“Alright?” Hannibal asks in a whisper, sitting down next to Will.

Will shakes his head, tries to steady his breathing. Hannibal pulls one of Will’s hands in his own and rubs circles over Will’s palm with his thumb. The other hand still rests solidly on Will’s back, attempting to ground him. Will craves more, a hug, to sit closer, but he lets Hannibal sooth him like that, still unsure of where they might stand with each other.

“I’m okay now,” Will says after several minutes of trying to control his breathing. “I didn’t like the idea of you not coming back, and me needing to make a decision.”

“Well, I am back,” Hannibal says, as if it’s not obvious. “Gathering supplies took longer than I had hoped. Did you take what I set out for you?”

Will shakes his head. “I didn’t wake up too long ago. I’ve been waiting here for you.”

“Okay. Take them in a moment. Allow me to check these,” Hannibal says. He peels back the bandage on Will’s cheek and Will winces when Hannibal’s fingers start to touch the skin around the wound. He makes a dissatisfied noise, peels off the rest of the bandage and moves to get the medical bag. “There are early signs of infection. Are you feeling okay?”

Will nods. Hannibal pulls out more bandages and goes into the bathroom. Will can hear the water running and Hannibal comes back with a wet cloth. He carefully wipes at the stitches, cleaning dried blood from the area and then recovers it. 

“Shirt,” Hannibal says and Will pulls his shirt over his head so Hannibal can do the same with the stab wound on his shoulder. “I have some antibiotics I would like for you to take along with the painkillers I already set out.”

Will nods again, not able to find his words. What words could he even say? What does one say to the serial killer tending to their wounds with gentle hands and kind touches? Will thinks he has to be losing it. Has to be losing it if he’s focused on Hannibal’s good side, rather than the bad. 

_ Why do I have to see the good in people?  _ Will thinks. If only he could pack up his shit and get off the boat wherever they’re currently docked and leave. But he  _ can’t _ do it. He can’t leave Hannibal, can’t lose him, can’t live a life separated from him. He  _ tried _ and it just came right back around, right back into Hannibal’s arms as he tried to take them both off the cliff. 

The panic did not come from not being able to make a decision, it came from him already making one and not wanting to have to change that. It came from the idea that Hannibal was almost late, and could have been arrested and taken away from him. Would Will be able to visit? Or would it just be obvious that he had chosen to run in the first place? They’d lock Will up for sure, wouldn’t they?

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice and a touch to his shoulder pulls him out of his thoughts again. He realizes his hands are shaking again, his breath coming harsh. 

“I’m fine,” Will shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

Will shakes Hannibal’s hand off of his shoulder and gets up, a groan of pain coming out of his lips, soreness from the previous night moving through every joint and muscle. He tries to ignore it as he crosses the cabin into the small bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Back pressed against the door, he slides down it to sit on the floor. He can’t believe what he’s doing, or what he’s thinking. How he’s really leaving behind a comfortable life for… for what, exactly? What doesn’t Hannibal expect from him? Will doesn’t even know what he expects for himself. Going on, becoming a killer like Hannibal, does not seem like something he could do. 

Beautiful, sure killing Dolarhyde with Hannibal  _ was _ beautiful, but it was a moment of passion, strong passion. Had they not killed him, who is to say what would have happened to either of them? Will worked in self defense. He always has, and this was not a whole lot different. Not really. What Hannibal did, what Hannibal does, is not, and never was self defense except for in the most obvious cases. That is not Will.

Thinking of Molly, Walter, the dogs… Will feels tears fall from his eyes and puts his head in his hands. Molly never really saw Will as someone capable of darkness, only ever seeing the good in him, and he’s throwing that away. Throwing away the chance at having a wife and a son, and all of their dogs. Throwing it all away for someone who killed his only friend, his surrogate daughter, and gutted him, sliced open his head, and framed him for murder. Hannibal spent their entire friendship (Relationship? Courtship? What even were they?) manipulating and influencing Will into becoming a killer. If Will decides he doesn’t want that now, even after all this time, after all of Hannibal’s work, will Hannibal leave him?

Will’s chest tightens at the thought that Hannibal might kick him off the boat, weigh him down and throw him in the ocean, cut him up and feed him to the sharks. Or worse, that Hannibal will just decide to leave him. Death, Will can deal with. Separation would be too much now. The ache he feels in his entire being for Hannibal scares him. He doesn’t even know if he can be what Hannibal needs him to be from a romantic standpoint, either. 

Loving Molly had been easy, she only saw the good in him, barely knew about his past. Not only that, but he barely knew hers. But with Hannibal everything is painful. Every knife, every syringe, every meal, everything. Everything is rooted in pain, but Will still thinks he might love him… but why? Will does not understand it at all. He does not know if he can ever truly face these feelings in a way that Hannibal would want him to.

Forgiveness has been granted in so many cases. Will forgives Hannibal for opening his stomach with a blade and leaving him to bleed on the kitchen floor. He forgives Hannibal for slicing Beverly like a tomato because Will feels mostly responsible for that. He had known Hannibal was dangerous and sent Beverly regardless. Cutting open his head, getting them caught by Mason Verger’s men, getting his biological child torn from Margot’s body, being framed for murder and losing his repuatation, all of those things can be blame placed in Hannibal’s hands. Will, for some fucked reason, forgives Hannibal for all of it. 

Unnecessarily killing Abigail… Will will not grant forgiveness for that. He holds onto that every day of his life, holds onto her. Will’s own betrayal, his own mistake, sure, but Hannibal had no reason to punish Abigail for that… it was completely uncalled for. Abigail had gotten out of the home of one cannibalistic serial killer with a neck wound, only to be placed into the home of another, this time not getting out, but still suffering another neck wound. An ending that had her back where she started. 

Will feels a surge of anger that he pushes down. Staying with Hannibal means pushing down emotions, no matter how hard it may be. And he really wants to stay with Hannibal. Needs to. 

He raises to his feet and looks in the mirror. The bandage on his face covers his entire cheek, and he wants to peel it back and assess the damage, but he doesn’t. Instead he wets his hands in the sink and presses them to his eyes, his forehead, his other cheek. When he’s certain it doesn’t look like he had been crying, he leaves the bathroom. 

Hannibal is no longer sitting on the bed where Will had left him, and he feels the boat moving now. Hannibal is bringing them back out to sea. Will doesn’t go to him right away, instead rummaging through the grocery bags lining every flat surface.

Food, clothes, more medical supplies, water, even liquor. Will is surprised to see things like potato chips and poptarts. There’s no way Hannibal would eat any of those things, and Will smiles, knowing Hannibal bought them with him in mind. Will opens the freezer and sees Hannibal put a few things away while he was in the bathroom. He finds a frozen meal and puts it in the microwave, then goes to see what medications Hannibal has left out. 

Will knows he doesn’t need any of the prescription pain meds - an advil or four would do just fine - but with no advil in sight, he takes half a tablet, then takes the antibiotics Hannibal left too. He washes them down with a can of Coke, once again surprised Hannibal brought soda on board the boat. The microwave beeps and Will sits down at the small table and eats. 

Once finished, he uses the bathroom again, pulls on a sweater that Hannibal bought and goes above deck to find him. 

Will sees it couldn’t have been Hannibal who had started the boat’s motor because he finds Hannibal standing on the boat’s deck, hands on the railing, watching the sea pass them by. Will looks behind him to the boat’s cockpit and sitting at the wheel is Chiyoh. 

He looks at her quizzically for just a moment but he supposes it makes sense. She did promise to look after Hannibal, and they are both injured and could likely use the extra help. Even though their last several encounters weren’t friendly by any means, he smiles at her as a peace offering and she gives Will a small nod before he walks up behind Hannibal.

Making a bold decision, Will snakes his arms around the man in front of him and presses his front to Hanibal’s back, arms tightly around Hannibal’s waist. Hannibal’s body goes rigid at the first bit of contact but slowly relaxes again when Will rests his chin on the other man’s shoulder.

Will speaks softly into Hannibal’s ear, “I can’t lose you, Hannibal. I can’t do it, not again. I’ve lost you too many times, and I can’t let you go again. These feelings… aren’t easy for me to deal with, but I’ve made my decision, and I didn’t want to have to make another.” 

“Oh, Will,” Hannibal murmurs. He keeps one hand on the railing, but rests the other on the hands Will has clasped together in front of them. Hannibal keeps staring out at the water as he speaks again, “Don’t push yourself to deal with your feelings if you cannot right now. If at any point you decide this isn’t what you want, you can leave, but I am relieved to know that right now this is how you feel.” 

Will just nods into Hannibal’s back and moves himself closer to Hannibal, trying to keep warm in the cool sea breeze. They stay like that for quite some time, a comfortable silence between the two of them, just the hum of the motor, and the crash of waves, the sun setting on the horizon. He lets his mind wander while they stand in the cool night air. 

Finally, Will says, “Hannibal?” 

“Hm?” 

“Do you have a plan for us?”

“As I said, I have property in Cuba specifically for safe housing. Not in my name, of course. We can start there, but I do not wish to stay long. We can take some time to recover from our injuries before moving on. There are places I would like to show you, Will, and for now I think it may be beneficial for us to keep moving so as to not get caught,” Hannibal pulls himself out of Will’s grip as he says it, and turns to face him. “As long as that’s what you want.”

Will nods. “I want you to show me Florence one day. Like you wanted.”

Hannibal places a hand on Will’s cheek, his thumb just barely grazing over the stitches under the bandage. Hannibal’s eyes are full of an emotion that Will can’t recognize, one he’s never noticed in the other man’s gaze before. He leans into the touch on his cheek and sighed, reaching up to hold Hannibal’s wrist in his own hand. In that moment, Will is sure that Hannibal is going to kiss him, but it never comes. Hannibal drops his hand from Will’s face, and turns back to the water. Will has no choice but to let go of Hannibal’s wrist as he moves to stand next to him at the railing of the boat.

“You didn’t tell me Chiyoh would be joining us,” Will points out.

“No. Considering your history, I didn't think you would be happy to hear that. I thought it might be better for you to figure it out on your own. Preferably when we were away from land, so you couldn’t refuse or run away,” Hannibal admits, a smile forming on his face.

Will lets out a chuckle at that. Hannibal is right. Will probably would have refused to let Chiyoh on the boat, would have walked off himself if she didn’t leave. 

“She won’t stay with us long. Chiyoh said she’ll help us get to Florida, where I have another boat and we shall leave her with this one,” Hannibal assures Will. “She will be driving the boat through the night because we should both be resting as much as possible. I fear I shouldn’t even be on my feet right now, but the sunset is beautiful on the sea, and I wasn’t certain if you needed some space or not.”

Will just nods and watches the ocean next to Hannibal. It’s weird, Hannibal being so considerate of Will’s well-being, granting him time to himself after he stormed off to the bathroom. It’s weird how honest Hannibal is being about their plans, how open he is about what he wants. The touch to his face, the emotions from him. Will really thought Hannibal would kiss him, he didn’t know why he didn’t. Will thinks that would have been welcome on his end, had Hannibal leaned in, but he didn’t. He really wishes he had. Will does not think he will be able to make that first move. 

There’s no saying that Hannibal’s feelings for Will are still there, even. Three years of separation is a long time, and it had probably been even longer before that since Hannibal had told Bedelia. Was it in Florence? Or before during Hannibal’s sessions with her? Maybe Hannibal isn’t in love with him anymore… no that can’t be right. Can it? Will stands there next to him, not quite close enough to touch, but yearning to be. He wouldn’t be here if Hannibal wasn’t still in love with him. Right?

“You’re thinking,” Hannibal says.

“Yes.” But Will doesn’t say any more, and Hannibal doesn’t ask. 

\---

They all decide it will be quicker if they kept the motor running as much as they can, with Will and Chiyoh taking shifts at the wheel. In the coming days Will sleeps while Chiyoh mans the boat, he eats, and takes his shifts at the helm while Chiyoh sleeps. Hannibal spends a lot of his time sleeping, trying to recover, and Will barely speaks more than a few words to him in the next few days. Will knows that a gunshot to the abdomen would cause problems for anyone, and even though Hannibal isn’t just  _ anyone _ , he’s still human whether he wants to admit it or not. 

Will knows he had a lot to deal with in his own mind, and one of those things is figuring out, and dealing with, his feelings for Hannibal. Will has chosen Hannibal over everyone else, but he still isn’t sure why, exactly. Every time he thinks he can love Hannibal, he then remembers the pain Hannibal has put him through over the years, and wonders how Hannibal could possibly be in love with him. He has to be, or else Will wouldn’t be here now, but he can’t be because how could he if he’s so willing to hurt Will? His mind circles through these thoughts every moment he gets to think. Which is often

Will  _ wants  _ Hannibal to be in love with him, but he always just assumed Hannibal wasn’t capable of such feelings. Still, though, Will always catches Hannibal watching him while he sleeps, and when he does, he remembers all those times in Hannibal’s office where he would catch Hannibal watching him with so much focus, eyes raking up and down his body. Subtle touches, here and there, for as long as he’d known the man, as if Hannibal couldn’t get enough of the small amounts of contact Will would allow. This was all happening long before they really meant anything to each other, and only persisted as their relationship grew. It’s still happening.

Sitting at the wheel of the boat while Chiyoh sleeps in the cabin, and Hannibal sleeps on deck in the sun, Will remembers that rainy night in Baltimore when Hannibal gutted him. Hannibal held Will through the pain, his face expressing what could only be read as the pain and betrayal he’d felt at Will’s hand.

At the thought, Will feels a phantom ache in his abdomen where the knife had sliced through him all those years ago. Hannibal had hurt him, left him to bleed out, and then ran off to Europe with Bedelia, but in the moments before Will slumped to the ground, he had been held in an embrace that somehow felt safe. Will had never been held like that by anyone before Hannibal, and after that, he’d never felt it like that again. 

That night in Baltimore didn’t just hurt Will physically. He was given Abigail back for mere seconds before she was taken from him again, her life ripped from her, just as he thought it had been all those months earlier. If Will had known Abigail was still alive… He knows he would’ve ran away with Hannibal without a second thought. Hannibal had wanted to surprise him and it had cost them both greatly. Will still doesn’t think forgiveness will come easy, if at all. 

Will thinks again about how he almost had a child, not just a surrogate like Abigail or a stepson like Walter, but a child that he had helped create. He knows, realistically, that he wouldn’t really have been a father to the baby he conceived with Margot, but it still would’ve been  _ his. _ Hannibal ruined that for him, too. Time and time again, Hannibal takes away the good things in Will’s life, just to drive him to the point they were at now, still dancing around each other, still too scared to talk about their feelings for one another. Will had killed Francis with Hannibal, ruthlessly murdering him like a pack of wild dogs. Will had felt powerful, and he felt love and acceptance radiating off of Hannibal as they clung to each other in the aftermath, but Will still isn’t sure if he wanted to continue on that road of destruction, like Hannibal had planned for him.

Watching Hannibal sleep on deck, so serene and beautiful in the golden sunlight, makes Will realize that, after everything, there is no way he could hate Hannibal. He’s upset about a lot of it, still, but even after all that they have gone through, Hannibal stayed with Will and never gave up on him, even if Will had given up on, betrayed, and rejected Hannibal more than once. Some things could never be forgiven, but he knows he has to accept them if he wants anything to work between them.

After another hour or two, Chiyoh comes to relieve Will from his duties. The two of them haven’t really spoken to each other at all in the entire time Chiyoh has been with them, just sharing weak smiles, and nods between shifts. This time, though, Chiyoh follows Will’s gaze to see Hannibal, and notices the fond smile plastered on Will’s face. 

“You need to talk to him,” Chiyoh says simply, and takes Will’s place at the wheel. She doesn’t expect Will to answer, and Will knows that. He just walks over to where Hannibal is laying and crouches down to touch his shoulder lightly.

Hannibal’s eyes fly open, his face showing that he’s assessing whether the hand is a threat, or not. His eyes find Will’s and his face softens, a small smile forming on his lips. He lets himself be helped up by Will and guided back below deck to the bed. No words are shared between the two of them while Will changes into pajamas and climbs into the bed next to Hannibal. Will lays on his side, watching as Hannibal settled in under the covers. 

“Something is troubling you,” Hannibal whispers, turning to face Will. Their faces are just inches apart, breathing each other's air.

Will sighs and runs a hand through his dark curls. He hates Hannibal’s ability to read him like that. Will always wishes he could just catch a glimpse of Hannibal’s thoughts like Hannibal could his, but he keeps too many walls up, even now. 

“What makes you say that?” Will asks, trying to avoid the conversation that he knows has to happen.

“You have barely spoken to me since Chiyoh joined us,” Hannibal reaches out to casually touch Will’s shirt collar. He pulls his hand back into his own chest and frowns. “I know you, Will. You’re barely present. Tell me what’s keeping you so far inside of your own mind, and maybe I can assist you in sorting these thoughts.”

“Still such a psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter,” Will retorts. He hears the edge in his voice, and offers a sheepish smile to let Hannibal know it was unintentional. Hannibal just smiles back and waits.

Will thinks about just turning over and pretending to sleep, but he knows Hannibal will be able to tell he’s still awake. Will still doesn’t think he is ready to talk about anything, though.

“Well,” Hannibal says, sitting up. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I suppose I would like to ask you a few things, if that is okay with you, Will?”

Will just nods and sits up, too. This is fine. He tells himself it will be fine.

“Why did you attempt to throw us off that cliff?” 

_ Okay, _ Will thinks,  _ maybe it’s not fine. _ Will rubs a hand over his face, trying to think of a way to word his answer. Hannibal is looking at Will, but Will refuses to meet his eyes. 

“I… thought it would kill us,” Will answers. 

Hannibal waits for Will to explain further, but Will just sits there. He doesn't want to make this easy for Hannibal because the killer had never made anything easy on Will. 

Hannibal seems to recognize this reluctance to elaborate. “Why did you want to kill us, Will?” Hannibal pushes. 

“I believe it was something along the lines of ‘can’t live with you, but can’t live without you,’ or whatever that saying is,” Will whispers. 

“And yet here you were, living with me.”

“Yes.”

“And how does that make you feel?” 

Will refrains from saying anything about psychiatry this time and shrugs. “I’m still kind of trying to figure that out. I mean, okay. I’m going to be honest. You’ve hurt me, tore my life apart for the sake of making me like you… but even after all this time… I’m not like you, Hannibal, not fully. Everyone I’ve killed… I’ve enjoyed it, sure, but it’s always been for a reason. I can’t kill people for no reason, you know?”

“I have never killed without reason,” Hannibal protests.

“Hannibal, simply being impolite is not a reason for murder!” Will just about yells. “Oh don’t give me that look. You know it’s not.”

“I will agree to disagree for the sake of continuing the conversation,” Hannibal smiles. 

Will groans and throws his hands in the air in surrender. “You know what? Fine. Okay,” Will pauses. “I guess, I’ve just been thinking about how… after all of that, you didn’t succeed in fully changing me, or whatever your goal was. So I just need to know how much further you’re going to go, how you’re gonna keep pushing me to become you because I really don’t know how much more I can handle, Hannibal.”

“Will,” Hannibal murmurs, reaching out to touch Will’s chin and turn his head to face him. “I will not do anything like that to you again. I do not wish to hurt you again unless I have to. All I want is for you to be happy, do you understand? And if you don’t want to kill with me, then I will not force you. I did not lie when I said this is all I ever wanted for us. That one experience was enough for me.”

“What if you get bored of me?”

“My darling, Will, I could never tire of you for as long as I live,” Hannibal’s dark eyes stare deep into Will’s and Hannibal moves his hand to cup Will’s cheek. Will’s breath catches in his throat and he swallows. Hard. 

Will can’t deal with this. Not now. 

“I, uh,” Will stammers. “I’m tired. I think I’m going to sleep now.” He removes Hannibal’s hand from his face, much to Hannibal’s visible dismay.

Hannibal nods, a look of sadness on his face. “Goodnight, Will.” 

He lays down and turns to face away from Will.

“Night, Hannibal,” Will whispers, sliding down to lay on his back. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, and he can tell Hannibal isn’t sleeping either. They lay there in silence for quite some time before Will is finally able to shut his eyes and drift off. 

\--

Will wakes up to the feeling of fingers rubbing circles on his back. He opens his eyes to find one of his arms draped across Hannibal’s torso, his head resting on Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, his fingers still making circles between Will’s shoulder blades. 

“Hm, sorry, Hannibal,” Will drawls sleepily, trying to sit up. Hannibal’s arm just tightens around him. After a moment, Will surrenders and lets himself relax back onto Hannibal’s chest. 

“It’s quite alright, Will,” Hannibal whispers into Will’s curls. Will tries to focus on Hannibal’s steady breathing under his head, the rise and fall of his chest, while he gathers the courage to speak his mind.

Finally, after several minutes, Will blurts out, “Bedelia said you’re in love with me.”

Will feels the rhythm of Hannibal’s chest under him change and it takes him a moment to realize Hannibal is laughing. Thinking he’s being mocked, Will pulls out of Hannibal’s grip so he can sit up to look at Hannibal’s face, hoping Hannibal can read the questioning look he tries to give the man. 

Hannibal shakes his head, as if to say ‘give me a moment,’ and pulls himself together. Even though the laugh is contained within a split second, Will has still never seen Hannibal lose his composure like that. 

“Is this what you’ve been trying to say to me?” Hannibal asks, a smile still plastered across his face. Will wants to punch it off. Or maybe kiss it off. He really does not know.

“Yes,” Will pouts and looks away. “Well? Is it true?”

Hannibal is sitting up now too, and lifts a hand to gently turn Will’s chin towards him. Hannibal leans forward and presses his forehead to Will’s.

“I have never tried to hide my adoration for you, Will Graham,” he whispers, mouth just centimeters away from Will’s. Will thinks this is it, after all these years. After all this time, Hannibal is finally going to kiss him. Maybe he’s waiting for Will to move first, but Will can’t do it. They sit, breathing each other’s air for several minutes. 

Neither of them hear the footsteps approaching the bedroom, so when Chiyoh clears her throat, both men jump back from each other, claiming their own sides of the bed again. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re here,” Chiyoh says and turns to leave the room, but turns back to wink at Will over her shoulder before walking away. 

Will felt his face grow warm and scrambles to get to the bathroom, grabbing a shirt and a pair of pants on the way. The realization sets in that Hannibal was really going to kiss him. And Will had wanted him to. Will shakes his head.  _ I was about to kiss Hannibal fucking Lecter,  _ he stares at himself in the mirror and feels a laugh starting to grow in his chest. Of course, the moment had to be ruined by Chiyoh walking in on them. All of their moments always get ruined. 

Even though Will had been about to kiss Hannibal, and knows he was about to enjoy it, he still has his doubts about where things stand between the two of them. A declaration of love, or whatever Hannibal had just done, doesn’t take away from the fact that Will’s life has been flipped upside down countless times by the killer, and it certainly doesn't bring back any of the people Will had loved and lost. Will leaves the bathroom to find that Hannibal must have gone to collect their things that are scattered across the boat, the duffel bag of clothes is nowhere to be seen, and the books Hannibal kept next to the bed have disappeared. 

Will decides he would wait to talk about all the things unsaid between them until they are settled into their new life, and goes to go help Hannibal clean up. 

On the table sits a large envelope with Will’s name written on it in Hannibal’s elegant script. He opens it up to find several different documents, including a birth certificate, and a French passport. He flips through the pages to find that, while his photo is correct, everything else is different. A new name, and new birthdate. He checks the birth certificate, which says he was born in the United States, and it has the same name and birthdate as the passport. 

He looks at the name. At that moment Hannibal comes back down the stairs, and Will looks up at him, almost seething, “Really, Hannibal? Walter? Like my son’s name?”

“Will, it is entirely coincidental. I had these documents made several years ago, before I was incarcerated. If it is an issue, we can get a new identity for you as soon as time permits, but for now, this will have to suffice.”

“And what’s your name? And why do I have a French passport?” 

“I’m Henri, and you have a French passport because you’re a French citizen.”

“Who was born in,” Will takes another look at the birth certificate. “Georgia?” 

Hannibal nods, “Will if you would just look at everything in the envelope, your questions may be answered.”

Will huffs and looks back inside. A small plastic baggy containing a gold ring catches his eye.  _ Oh. _ Will thinks, pulling it out and examining it through the plastic. He realizes in that moment he’s still wearing his old wedding ring. He looks down at the band on his finger and hesitates. After a moment’s deliberation, he slides it off and sets it down on the table, then opens the plastic bag in his hands and removes the ring.

“As I said,” Hannibal begins, watching Will. “If our identities are an issue-”

Will cuts him off, ignoring the look on Hannibal’s face at his act of impoliteness, “No, Hannibal, it’s okay.” 

Will hands the new ring to Hannibal, and is given a curious look in return. Will holds out his hand for Hannibal to slide the ring onto his wedding finger. Will sees the matching band on Hannibal’s finger when their fingers brush together.

The two men lock eyes once the ring is fit on Will’s ring finger.  _ Of course Hannibal knows my ring size _ . Will shakes his head and smiles at the thought. Perhaps a little creepy, but Will doesn’t really care at this point. 

Hannibal smiles back, absolutely beaming, and Will can see real happiness in Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal is still smiling when he turns on his heel to go finish collecting their belongings. They don’t have much, but Hannibal’s usual tidiness had been abandoned during their voyage, mostly because Will would just make a mess after Hannibal straightened up.

Will pulls the rest of the documents out of the envelope and drops them on the table, taking a seat to sift through them. He finds proof of his French citizenship as well as their marriage papers. The marriage certificate tells him that _ Walter _ and _ Henri Bellamy _ have been married for ten years. 

“A whole decade, Hannibal?” 

“As I said, Will, I had these documents made long before I was incarcerated. In order for someone to apply for French citizenship, they are required to be married to a French citizen for at least five years, and my documents say I was born in France,” Hannibal explains as if it were obvious. 

“You’re not French though. Won’t people notice your accent isn’t French?”

“It isn’t often an issue anywhere but Europe, dear Will,” Hannibal comes to stand next to him, looking down at all the documents, then at Will’s face. “Regardless, I’m fluent in French, and lived there with my aunt and uncle as a teenager. No one will think twice.” 

“Okay. Alright,” Will nods, deciding to just trust Hannibal. He can’t help but wonder if all of this trust he’s handing out is a good idea, but Hannibal hasn’t betrayed it thus far in their journey.

“Now, Will, before we depart the boat, a few things we must handle,” Hannibal changes the subject. “Your old wedding band, if you’re willing to part with it, should stay on the vessel. As well as the clothes you boarded in. I will be leaving my own, as well as not removing our bloody bandages from the trash bins.”

Will just looks at Hannibal, not sure where the man is going with this. The Chesapeake Ripper never leaves evidence, and if anyone were to find this boat here, it would be full of evidence of their whereabouts.

“Chiyoh is going to take the boat North again, likely somewhere near Canada, but not too far from our friends at Quantico. She’s going to call in an anonymous tip when she arrives about a mysterious boat being docked in the wrong spot and appears to have bloody footprints trailing across the deck and into the cockpit, as well as down into the cabin,” Hannibal continues. It clicks for Will, then. They were going to give the police probable cause to search their boat in an attempt to throw the FBI off their trail.

“Hannibal, they’re not going to believe we’re in Canada if they find Chiyoh’s prints everywhere,” Will says. “Jack Crawford is not an idiot, and you don’t leave evidence, they’ll see right through it.”

“Chiyoh has not left prints, Will. She’s been wearing gloves the entire time, if you haven’t noticed. It has just been us here as far as Jack is concerned.” 

Will hadn’t noticed Chiyoh’s gloves, but of course Hannibal has already thought of everything. Will just hopes that the FBI are dumb enough to believe it. Will takes one last look at his wedding ring on the table before he decides he no longer needs that part of him anymore.

He doesn’t belong to Molly anymore, so he didn’t need a symbol of what they had. He made his decision, he doesn’t need a reason to look back. He glances down to the new ring on his finger, and then to Hannibal’s matching one. Will belongs to Hannibal now, and Hannibal belongs to him in return. 

“Come now,” Hannibal grasps one of Will’s hands and leads him up the stairs and into the muggy Florida air. Will hadn’t even noticed before just how much blood they’d trailed onto the boat during their first night until now, after Hannibal mentioned it to him. They had changed clothes at the house, but walked onto the boat in their same bloody shoes they’d killed Dolarhyde in.  _ Yeah,  _ Will thinks, _ that could easily raise suspicions if anyone else saw it, and would definitely be taken as probable cause to search the boat. _ Will just hopes the plan works, and the search stays North for as long as they aren’t anywhere near there. 

The two men depart from the boat with all of the items they were taking, and wave goodbye to Chiyoh, who is already moving out of the spot at the dock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos! A big part of why I continue to write is because of the feedback I get from readers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for some violence between Hannibal and Will. And passing mentions of suicide while Hannibal and Will about the night on the cliff.

Hannibal pulls Will along the dock to another boat, this one slightly smaller than the other. Will boards the boat with their documents and bags in hand, and Hannibal begins untying them from the dock.

“Why did we have to switch boats?” Will asks

“Because we will have to clear customs when we arrive, and for one, this boat matches the name on this new passport, and two, an agent will do an inspection, and the state of our previous vessel is not likely to pass.”

“Customs? Won’t we need-”

Hannibal cuts him off, pointing at the envelopes in Will’s hands, “Everything is taken care of, Will. You really do worry too much.”

“How did you even have time to do all of this? I mean, you were in the BSHCI for three years.” 

“Do you mind if we continue this conversation when we are back on open water?” Hannibal doesn’t wait for Will to answer, and is already moving to the helm to steer them in the right direction. 

Will takes their bags below deck and sees that the layout is pretty similar to their old boat. A table with chairs, and a small kitchenette, and further down is the bedroom. Will moves towards the end of the boat and opens the door into the sleeping quarters. This trip will not be long at all if they take shifts, but Hannibal seemed to be having a hard time letting Will out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time the last few days. When Will had been at the wheel, Hannibal would always lounge on deck, either dozing, or reading. When Will went down below to sleep, Hannibal would always follow shortly after. 

Will notes that instead of one big bed like the old boat, though, there were two small cots on either side of the cabin. Will frowns, even in the days when neither man touched or spoke, Will could count on Hannibal’s warm body acting like a space heater next to him in the bed. Just sleeping close to the man kept his usual nightmares at bay, and he does not like the idea of sleeping apart after growing accustomed to being so close. 

_Fuck me, I am so far gone for this man._ Will huffs, running a hand through his unruly hair. It has been days since a proper wash, and there is no comb in sight. He wonders for a moment how Hannibal is faring without his usual grooming products or routine, but then remembers that Hannibal had gone years in a maximum security mental institution and had likely gotten used to not looking as Will was used to seeing him back in the day.

Will forces himself to stop fretting about the bed situation and goes back to go find Hannibal at the wheel. “Can we continue the conversation now?”

“I suppose so,” Hannibal says. Will just stands next to him, the seat at the wheel only suitable for one. “Will, as you know, I was planning on running with you, and not with Bedelia. I had documents made for us, as well as Abigail.” 

Will feels his chest tighten at the sound of her name. 

Hannibal continues, “We were to be Henri and Walter, and Abigail was to be our daughter, Emilia. She was yours, her fictional mother was dead… Enough about her, I apologize.” 

Hannibal can clearly sense Will’s discomfort. Will cannot believe Hannibal has the gall to speak about Abigail, about the fake backstory he made up. He was the one that took Abigail away, he shouldn’t be allowed to speak about her and the life he wanted them to have together. Will doesn’t say a word about it, tries to push down his anger. He just looks out at the sea and waits for Hannibal to continue. 

“Besides our aliases, Chiyoh did everything. She made sure everything was in working order, that the boats had fuel, and were registered under correct names. I called her using your phone before we departed so I could be certain she would find us, and that she had everything ready.”

Hannibal removes a hand from the wheel and takes hold of one of Will’s. Will hadn’t realized until now that he is shaking, and his breathing is ragged, his heartbeat faster than normal. He had been thinking of Abigail the entire time Hannibal was speaking, and hadn’t noticed the physical reaction his sadness and anger have brought on. Not until Hannibal is clutching at Will’s hand and trying to sooth him.

Will yanks his hand out of Hannibal’s grip. 

“Will,” Hannibal starts, reaching out to try and take Will’s hand once more. 

“Don’t,” he growls. He backs away from Hannibal, and tries to steady his breathing. Will goes from wanting to be close to Hannibal in any capacity just minutes ago, to wanting nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible. “You don’t get to talk about Abigail, Hannibal. You don’t get to talk about the life you planned for the three of us. You know why? Because _you_ are the reason we couldn’t have that life. Maybe I betrayed you, but you didn’t have to kill her. You did it for what? Because of me? So I could watch her die? Fuck you.”

Will wipes the tears that are now streaming down his face. Hannibal just watches Will from where he sits. Will once again can’t tell what the killer was feeling in that moment and it just makes Will’s rage grow. Doesn’t Hannibal owe it to Will at this point? To let go of his person suit and give Will _something_? Any sort of indication that Will is getting through to him? Will wants to see the pain in Hannibal’s eyes, a quiver of his bottom lip. Anything to prove that Will might be hurting him in even a fraction of the amount Hannibal has hurt him. 

“I’ve forgiven you for a lot, but I’ll never forgive you for that, Hannibal.” Will manages to get almost all of the words, but his voice cracks when he says the other man’s name. 

“I will admit that my actions that night were impulsive, and I should not have handled the situation in that manner, but I will not lie and say that I fully regret what I did,” Hannibal confesses. “I never expected your full forgiveness, Will. For what it’s worth, I will not mention her again. Now, please. Come here.”

Hannibal opens his arms, and Will wants to let himself be held. To be comforted. _No,_ Will tells himself as he steps back towards Hannibal. Hannibal seems to be sure Will is going to surrender to his embrace, but before Will can let himself be wrapped up in those strong arms, he pulls back his fist and lands a punch to Hannibal’s nose. 

Will watches smugly as Hannibal’s fingers raise to check for blood, and Will is happy there is. He smirks at his work, and while he is distracted, Hannibal’s fist connects with Will’s stomach, right over the scar given by the same hand years before. 

Will groans and stumbles back as Hannibal shuts off the boat’s engine and rises to his feet, fist clenched at his side. The two men land punch after punch, pushing, scratching, anything to inflict pain. At one point Will feels sharp teeth dig into his good shoulder, likely drawing blood, and he responds with a firm knee to Hannibal’s gut. Hannibal’s teeth release and he headbutts Will in the mouth. Will touches his teeth to make sure they are all still intact, and returns the favor. They went on like that, back and forth, in a physical altercation long overdue. Will knows how to fight, but he isn’t as big or strong as Hannibal, so when Hannibal finally tackles Will to the ground, he has no choice but to take it. 

Will hits the ground with a grimace on his face, pain shooting up through his tailbone where it collides with the deck. With Will now sprawled out flat on his back, Hannibal with his knees on each side of Will’s thighs, the smaller man quickly moves to cover his face with his arms to shield from the inevitable blows he is about to endure. When they never come, Will peeks between his arms to see Hannibal just staring down at him. Will sees a hint of something in Hannibal’s eyes and lets himself relax slightly when he realizes it isn’t threatening. Hannibal notices the act of submission and takes his chance to grab Will’s wrists and pin them above his head before he can try to resist. 

Will struggles, trying to twist his arms out of Hannibal’s hands, but the grip on his wrists will not let up. He stops fighting when he realizes there really is no point. 

“Are you done now?” Hannibal’s voice is calm, but Will can tell the man is out of breath, and struggling to keep fighting. Even though Hannibal seems to be some sort of superhuman, he is still recovering from his injuries and can’t fight forever. Will can easily use this to his advantage, but instead he just nods. He’s tired of fighting.

Hannibal releases his grip on Will’s wrists and sits back on his heels, Will still underneath him. Neither man makes a move, just stays exactly where they were, Will’s hands still above his head, Hannibal’s own now sitting atop his own head, trying to catch his breath and steady it. 

They stay like that, staring at each other for several minutes. There are glimpses of something in Hannibal’s brown eyes, coming and going as the minutes tick by. Will is sure that Hannibal has not meant for him to see it. Has not meant for him to see that he truly did care for the man underneath him. But Will has seen it and it is all he needs. _Only I, Will Graham, could look into the eyes of a known killer and find comfort there._

Will finally makes a move to try and sit up. When Hannibal sees that Will is trying to move, he attempts to get up to allow the other man out from under him, but Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist and pulls him back down so he’s straddling Will’s lap, his hands steadying himself on Will’s shoulders. Will gasps when he feels Hannibal’s hardening cock through their layers of clothing. He realizes he didn’t only find love in Hannibal’s eyes, but also arousal. He knows he’s similarly affected by the man in his lap.

This is really all Will needs, the confirmation he needs to try making a movie. Leaving one arm still wrapped around Hannibal’s waist, Will raises a hand to place on Hannibal’s cheek. He stretches up as best as he can and presses his lips to Hannibal’s, but Hannibal doesn’t lean down to meet him. The angle is awkward with Hannibal’s face being too high and almost out of Will’s reach, and Will lets out an annoyed groan.

“Are you going to kiss me back, or what?” Will growls as he pulls away, his anger from before beginning to resurface, albeit for different reasons this time. How can Hannibal deny Will of this after so long? After so many close calls in the past, almost all of them caused by Hannibal himself, Will expects Hannibal to be an eager participant. 

“No, I am not.” There is an edge in Hannibal’s voice. 

He heaves himself up and out of Will’s grasp, standing and adjusting himself in his pants, before moving away from the man on the ground. Will doesn’t even have a chance to react before Hannibal is back behind the wheel of the boat. 

“Wh-what?” Will stammers, still sitting on the floor of the boat where Hannibal left him. Painfully hard, and painfully confused. 

“I apologize, Will, but we must be on our way,” Hannibal replies. “If you would be so inclined to bring me the first aid kit, that would be much appreciated.”

There is no hint in Hannibal’s voice that it would actually be appreciated, though. No, his voice is nearing a tone of anger. So he’s mad. He’s mad when he’s the reason the fight had occurred in the first place. Will had thrown the first punch, but he feels as though it was very much deserved after everything. Of course, Hannibal can’t have seen it that way. He is going to treat this like another act of betrayal. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Will rolls his eyes and picks himself up off the ground. He goes below deck and quickly finds the first aid kit, but decides to take his sweet time returning it to Hannibal.

Will steps into the boat’s small bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Purple bruises are already forming around his face, and blood is drying under his nose. He pulls aside his shirt collar to reveal the unmistakable pattern of teeth, bruising and bloody. One of the stitches holding closed the stab wound on his face appeared to have ripped, but the bleeding is minimal, and he figured it won’t need to be fixed. 

Looking again at the bite mark, Will decides to pull his t-shirt off over his head. He examines the scratches and bruises littering his arms and abdomen. He runs his fingers along the scar on his stomach, where Hannibal had managed to hit once again, a reminder of what he can do if he wants to. In the mirror, Will sees the glimmering gold wedding band on his ring finger. He quickly pulls it off and drops it, not caring where it lands. It may not mean anything, they aren’t actually married, but he can’t look at it without remembering the way Hannibal looked at him when he placed the ring on his finger. All of that fondness now gone and replaced with a fire in his eyes, anger and resentment. Will hopes it will hurt Hannibal to see the ring is nowhere to be found, but now he really doesn’t know if Hannibal will even care. How things changed so drastically in just a matter of hours is beyond Will.

He takes a few more minutes, doing nothing in particular, willing his erection to go away, just thinking about how Hannibal wouldn’t return Will’s kiss. It makes no sense to him. This isn’t the first time Will has been left confused by the other man’s feelings, but Will is determined to make sure it will be the last.

Will takes the stairs back up to the boat’s deck and walks to where Hannibal is sitting at the wheel. 

“Here,” he says as harshly as he can and pushes the first aid kit into Hannibal’s hands. Will turns to leave but Hannibal grabs his arm before he can get out of reach. Will tries to pull free from the grip on his wrist, but it will not let up.

“Will,” Hannibal warns. “At the very least allow me to clean that bite mark.”

Will keeps trying to pull away from Hannibal.

“Please, Will.” Hannibal’s voice isn’t above a whisper when he says it, but Will can hear the pleading in his voice all the same. He stops pulling and sighs before moving closer to Hannibal. 

Hannibal stands up and gently pushes Will over to one of the boat’s benches, leaving the boat to sail in the meantime. Will sits down obediently and Hannibal starts rummaging through the bag for antiseptic wipes and gauze bandages. He sits in front of Will, and pulls on a pair of medical gloves, before getting to work on cleaning the wound. Gentle, steady hands touching his chest and shoulder. Will avoids looking at Hannibal’s face, and Hannibal makes no attempt to look away from his hands as they work.

When Hannibal finishes placing a bandage over it, his fingers linger on Will’s shoulder. 

“Will, I…” Hannibal starts. Will looks at Hannibal then and he seems to be carefully thinking about what he wants to say. Hannibal removes his hand from Will’s shoulder and cups his cheek. Will doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t lean into the touch either. He stays as still as he possibly can. 

“You what?” 

“I should not have brought her up, and I apologize. I wasn’t fully aware of your feelings about it, and I should not have pushed that boundary without asking first,” Hannibal takes a breath. “I already told you I don’t wish to hurt you any more than I have. Please believe me when I tell you that I never meant to cause you any turmoil by our conversation, I just wished to be honest with you.”

“Okay, if you want to be honest, then tell me why you didn’t want to kiss me.”

“I did,” Will opens his mouth to interrupt but Hannibal glares at him. Will shuts his mouth abruptly, and Hannibal continues, “I have wanted to since the moment I met you, Will, but I do not want your physical affections if you are angry with me. I have waited years for you, and I don’t want our relationship to continue to be built on pain. I feel as though having physical relations in any way while you are angry with me would be taking advantage of you.”

Will cannot believe what he is hearing.

“Oh because you didn’t take advantage of my brain being on fire?” Will sneers. “Or did you forget that you framed me for murder when I wasn’t in my right mind? You can do that, but you can’t kiss me when I’m angry with you?”

Hannibal appears to be rendered speechless and Will feels a spark of joy inside him over his victory. Hannibal opens and shuts his mouth twice before finally speaking.

“My intentions in regards to you have changed since then. I wanted you to become the truest version of you, more so than I cared about your mental and physical wellbeing, I admit. I desired you then, but now, Will, I love you. I am deeply in love with you. There’s a great difference, and now I want nothing more than your happiness and safety. For you to associate our first kiss with violence and pain would hurt me more than any pain I have ever felt. If we were to pursue a physically intimate relationship, I need you to be sure that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want. I mean,” Will gestures at his groin. “Clearly.”

“Physical reactions are natural in the position we were put in, but I fear you don’t entirely trust me, nor have you dealt with a lot of the events that so clearly still have a hold on you.” Hannibal is stroking Will’s cheek with his thumb, his other hand has moved to rest on Will’s hip at some point while he speaks. “I see you’ve removed your ring, and, while I hope it was a spur of the moment decision, I understand if it was an action of intent. You know how I feel about you, but I worry that you do not truly know how you feel about me. I need you to be sure.”

Will thinks for a moment. Hannibal is definitely right about him not dealing with things, and Will knows he would have to move on at some point. _Acceptance_ of Abigail’s death comes easy these days, but he knows he has to take it a step beyond that if he wants to be with Hannibal without having to worry if things will turn violent. Will hasn’t even really processed the fact that he has left his entire life behind to run away with Hannibal. He may not love Molly like he believed he had when they got married, or else he would have gone straight home after Hannibal rendered his plan to kill them obsolete. Maybe he doesn’t love her as much, but he still cares for her, and knows she deserves better than him running off. He worries about his dogs, and he can’t be what he wanted to be for Hannibal if he was still thinking about his old life. He wants to love Hannibal, but there is so much to think about before he can be sure that he’s in love with him.

“I want this to work, I do,” Will makes a gesture between them to show what he means. “But I… I think I need time, Hannbal. That’s not to say we need to change anything, but I… if you won’t take advantage of me, as you said, then I need time to get into the right headspace. You’re right, and I hate it, but I do need to work through things, and I am having a hard time figuring out my feelings for you. I think…”

“What is it, Will?” Hannibal asks, sensing Will’s hesitation.

“Nevermind. Just… time would be nice. A few days maybe? I don’t know. I just need to think a few things over and make some decisions, I think?” 

“If you need time, then you can have time, Will,” Hannibal speaks softly. “I’ve waited years for you, and I would wait as long as you need. Please promise me one thing, though, Will.”

“Anything, Hannibal.”

“Please speak to me when something is bothering you. Any questions you have about my past actions will be answered with complete honesty. I will not react poorly to anything you say to me. I do very much wish to help you through anything and everything, if you will allow me.”

Hannibal moves his hand from Will’s cheek and instead pulls one of his hands into his own. 

“Sounds like the therapist in you speaking. So are we back to a doctor-patient relationship now? I suppose you shouldn’t be touching my hip like that if we are,” Will jokes. 

“I know you are attempting to be humorous, but if you wish for me to take the role of your psychiatrist, then I will,” Hannibal removes his hand from Will’s hip, but keeps their hands together.

“No, Hannibal. I don’t want that at all,” Will smiles. “I promise, by the way. I’ll talk to you.”

Hannibal gives Will’s hand a squeeze before letting go and standing up. 

“We really must keep moving if we want to make it there any time soon. You’re welcome to sit up here with me,” Hannibal moves to sit behind the wheel again,

Will shakes his head, “I’m gonna make myself something to eat. Are you hungry?” 

Hannibal nods and Will goes below deck to see what food they have left. Will puts on a t-shirt before making sandwiches for the both of them with the remaining bread and sliced meat Chiyoh had picked up last time they went ashore to refuel.

He grabs two bottles of water and returns to Hannibal with their lunch. Will sits down on the bench a few feet from Hannibal and they eat in silence. When both men finish eating, Will takes their plates back down to the small kitchen. 

Will goes into the bathroom to try and find his discarded ring. It takes a minute, but he finally finds it behind the toilet. He picks it up and slides it back onto his finger. 

Will has no idea where he and Hannibal stand now, or what is acceptable between the two of them. He seems to think holding hands and the touching of hips is completely fine, and doesn’t fall under the criteria of physical intimacy. Will he let Will climb into one of the extremely small cots with him while they sleep? Or will Will have to sleep on his own and risk waking Hannibal with his nightmares? Surely Hannibal would understand that Will just needs the comfort of the man, and won’t see it as taking advantage of him. Right? Will’s thoughts are spiraling, he knows. He takes a deep breath and leaves the bathroom to find Hannibal. He had promised, after all, that he would bring issues up to Hannibal and talk to him when he needs to. 

They have been on the water for some time now and the sun is starting to set when he emerges from below deck. 

“You know, I’ve grown used to sleeping next to you, and you being near makes me sleep a lot better, but those cots seem to be really small,” Will says, coming to stand next to Hannibal.

Hannibal smiles up at him. “Yes, they are quite small.”

“So if I wanted to sleep next to you, we’d have to practically be laying on top of each other, then?” 

“It would seem so, but if you think that would be inappropriate, then perhaps we should sleep separately,” Hannibal offers.

“No, I, uh, I have nightmares, but I haven’t had them at all since we started sleeping together and I don’t want to wake you up if I start screaming across the room,” Will explains. “I, um, find your presence comforting, as weird as that may be. Just sleeping should be okay, right?”

“If you are okay with it, then I am too. Just sleeping, though,” Hannibal agrees. “I want to sail for a bit longer, while the wind is working in our favor, and then we can drop anchor for the night and get some rest. It shouldn’t be much farther once we wake up.”

“Okay.”

“And Will? Thank you for talking to me. I’m glad I know about your nightmares now, and will do what you need me to do in order to help with those.”

“Yeah, I, um,” Will stammers. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I know, but I am grateful you told me, and I told you I would be honest with you, if you’re honest with me,” Hannibal assures him. 

It is very weird for Will, having Hannibal act so… soft with him. It feels more sincere than Hannibal has ever been with him, and it makes Will’s heart warm. Will thinks briefly that he shouldn’t trust it, but something tells him that there is no threat, and that Hannibal will make due on what he said about not wanting to hurt Will anymore. With every fond smile, and kind word, or reassurances, Will thinks more and more that he would need less and less time to accept Hannibal and love him without condition. It is a good thought to have and Will welcomes it with ease. 

Every moment that passes by, standing next to Hannibal as they sail towards a new life, he finds himself thinking about his old life less often. God, he misses the dogs, though. He hopes he can have another one day. Probably not until they settle somewhere more permanent, if they ever do, but the possibility of it makes him smile.

When Hannibal finally decides they should turn in for the night, they drop anchor and go below deck. Hannibal goes into the bathroom to change into pajamas and brush his teeth, while Will changes into pajamas in the cabin area. Hannibal emerges and Will goes in to use the bathroom after him.

Will walks out and sees Hannibal has already claimed a cot. Even with their conversation earlier, Will is unsure if he should join Hannibal or take his own across the room. He shifts on his feet, indecisive and nervous, and Hannibal seems to read his mind because he shifts to make as much room as he can and he opens his arms for Will.

His worries dissipate quickly and he easily takes his place in Hannibal’s arms, letting out a content sigh when contact is made between their bodies. Will is tired after a day of sailing and fighting, and his body finally relaxes for the first since he woke up that morning. He hadn’t even realized how much he needed to lay down until now. 

“I see you put your ring back on,” Hannibal says quietly. 

Will nods against Hannibal’s chest, and Hannibal doesn’t push the conversation any further.

“Did you and Bedelia wear rings?” Will asks after a few moments of silence.

“When we were with other people, yes. I took mine off when I got home each day. I never felt anything for Bedelia beyond curiosity. I regret not being able to share that life with you instead of her,” Hannibal sighs. 

“I wish I would’ve ran away with you when you asked me to. I wish I didn’t reject you after you saved me at Muskrat Farm.”

“Will, we mustn’t keep doing this,” Hannibal pleads. “We both have regrets that we need to let go of. Too much of our companionship is rooted in tragedy, and it’s not going to help either of us to dwell on it.”

“I know. It’s just hard to forget, no matter how bad I want to,” Will says, words muffled because his face is pressed into Hannibal’s chest. 

“I know, Will.”

Hannibal is rubbing circles on his back, much like he had done when they woke up together that morning. Will melts into Hannibal’s body, the soothing motions on his back and the steady breathing under his cheek, almost lulling him to sleep. 

After several minutes, Will whispers, “Hannibal?”

“Yes, Will?”

“I want a dog. N-not now, or any time soon, but… eventually,” Will’s voice falters as he said it, not wanting to ask Hannibal for something like that. Will knows Hannibal wouldn’t be a fan of a dog muddying up his carpets or shedding on their clothes.

“I think that can be arranged at some point, dear, Will,” Hannibal assures. “Anything. I would give you anything.”

“I…” Will trails off. He isn’t sure how much truth there is to the words he wants to speak, but he is dying to hear if Hannibal will give him this, too. “I kind of want to kill Bedelia.”

The circles on Will’s back stop and Hannibal’s breath hitches in his throat at the request. Will smiles in satisfaction at the reaction. 

“This is very unexpected, Will, but who am I to deny you of that? I just ask that you tell me why,” Hannibal resumes rubbing Will’s back. “You told me you might not want to kill. What changed your mind?”

“Well,” Will starts. “In a way, she took the life meant for me. I want to take her life from her. I’m jealous she got to be in Florence with you. Got to play a married couple in front of your fancy colleagues, and go to your fancy parties. That should’ve been me.”

“I will not lie to you, Will, but sometimes I feel that way about your wife. Please stop me if I overstep here,” Hannibal requests before continuing. “When Alana told me you had married, she showed me your wedding photos, you know. I wanted nothing more than to rip your wife’s head off. I couldn’t fathom the idea of someone other than me making you look so happy.”

“Are you asking me if you can kill Molly?”

“Would you say yes?”

“And if I say no?” Will asks. Hannibal just shrugs. Will continues, “Killing Molly wouldn’t just harm her, Hannibal.”

“I’ll allow you to think about it but consider that your request for a dog, and my longing to get rid of your wife, would, as they say, kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughs, “You’re saying we kill Molly and take the dogs? You know there’s, like, 8 of them, right? Or is it 9… Fuck, Hannibal, I had a dog in my hotel room. I hope someone found him.”

Will is rambling at this point, and Hannibal hushes him, “Stop worrying about the dog, Will. Yes, I know you have a lot of them… I was thinking one day we could settle in a house with land. I know how that appeals to you. It wouldn’t be a problem as long as you’re happy. Regardless, you haven’t even decided if you will let me kill her. Sleep now, Will, you’re barely awake.”

Will hums in response and snuggles in closer to Hannibal, practically laying on top of him now, their legs tangled together and their bodies pressed close. Moments like this feel safe to Will, and he realizes that he had nearly forgotten why he had gotten so mad at Hannibal earlier in the day. It’s getting easier to see Hannibal as his future. Maybe he won’t need as much time as he thought he would. The idea that he and Hannibal can have a loving life together puts a smile on his face, and the smile remains as he drifts off in Hannibal’s arms.

Will wakes up hours later to the feeling of Hannibal trying to get out from under him. Will just wraps his arms around Hannibal’s torso tighter and makes a noise of protest.

“Will,” Hannibal laughs, still trying to get up. “Please, Will, I need to use the restroom. I will come back.”

Will groans and lets go, “Fine.”

Will lays out on the cot, flat on his back and stares at the ceiling. When Hannibal emerges from the bathroom a minute later, Will turns his head and watches him cross the room. Will shifts to let Hannibal back in, but Hannibal just stands there and looks at the man laying below him.

“It’s almost dawn, and I think we should likely keep moving,” Hannibal tells him.

“You said you’d come back to bed,” Will reminds him and tries to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist to pull him in, but Hannibal steps back out of Will’s reach. 

“Come sit with me. We can watch the sunrise,” Hannibal requests. Hannibal is moving to their bag of clothes to find something that doesn’t smell too terribly after days at sea with no washing. When he seems to find something that is satisfactory, he looks at Will, still waiting for an answer.

Will huffs and swings his legs off the cot, planting his feet on the ground and standing up. He lets out a loud groan as he stretches his arms above his head. Hannibal watches him as he does it, something behind his eyes that Will can’t quite recognize. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll use the bathroom and get dressed and meet you up there,” Will agrees. 

Will catches Hannibal smiling while he strips out of his pajamas and pulls on his clothes. Will walks into the bathroom and shut the door. 

When Will finally emerges from below deck, Hannibal is already getting the boat ready to start moving again. Will figures this would be their last day, if not tomorrow, based on the time they are making. If they go through the whole day and into the night, they can make it to Cuba before sunrise the next day.

As the two men sit watching the sunrise, Will wonders how things will change for them once they get off the boat. Their time on the vessel almost feels like limbo to Will. It isn’t quite his old life, but not quite his new life, either. As if he can go forward or backwards if he wants to. He knows the second they step foot in their new home, there will be no going back. Not until they go back if they decide to find Bedelia… and possibly Molly, if Will allows it. Will knows he never could.

Having his dogs back would bring comfort and familiarity that he couldn’t get with new strays off the street, but it would cost Molly her life, and she doesn’t deserve that. Will still has Walter to consider, too. He isn’t at all sold on the idea of leaving the young boy without parents. He has suffered too much loss already and Will feels bad for the kid. No mom, no dad, step dad running off with a serial killer and their dogs. That would put the kid in therapy for the rest of his life, if he isn’t already seeing someone after Francis’s attack. 

Later in the day, after not talking at all since morning, Will decides he doesn’t want to be subject to his own thoughts anymore, and instead wants some answers. He is laying on deck, basking in the late afternoon sun, and Hannibal is still at the boat’s wheel. 

“How much longer do you think?” Will asks.

“If we keep going through the night we can arrive before sunrise,” Hannibal replies.

“Okay, good. I love sailing, but I’m ready to get off this damn boat and take a hot shower and put on some clean clothes. Something good to eat, too. I’m sick of canned stuff, and I’m sure you miss cooking.”

Hannibal nods in agreement and Will sits up to get a better look at the man. The way the sun hits Hannibal’s high cheekbones is something out of a painting of Greek gods. Both men had taken off their shirts earlier in the Caribbean heat of the afternoon, and Will can see that the wounds on Hannibal’s side are starting to heal, and will most definitely leave a nice scar. Will notes the graying tones of Hannibal’s hair, his bangs falling loosely over his forehead. He hasn’t been able to shave once in the days aboard and there is stubble growing on his face. Will thinks Hannibal looks beautiful. There is no other way he wanted to describe the man in front of him. 

Hannibal meets Will’s eyes and they both smile.

“What’s on your mind, Will?”

“You, mostly.” Will looks away, embarrassment evident in his voice. He allows himself a second to let the blush in his cheeks to go down, before looking at Hannibal again. “I have been wondering a few things, actually.”

“As I said before, anything you ask will be answered with honesty.”

“Okay. Was Chiyoh just on call, waiting for you?” Will asks.

“Before I turned myself in, I had left your house several hours before, if you remember. I wasn’t just sitting outside your home doing nothing, but rather taking care of a few things. One of those things was giving Chiyoh a location in case I ever escaped. All I had to do was call and confirm she was in the area,” Hannibal explains. “When you came to me, I was able to convince Alana to give me one last phone call before leaving her care. She only agreed because we all knew Jack intended for me to be killed. I told Chiyoh that there was a plan in place to bait Francis, and I told her I did not believe I would be returning to the hospital. She knew what that meant, of course.”

Hannibal winks at that. Of course, Alana would’ve interpreted that as Hannibal thinking he’d be killed along with the Dragon, but Chiyoh knew better. 

“I’m sure Alana feels stupid about misinterpreting that,” Will laughs. “Seriously, though. You gave Chiyoh a location in case you escaped, before you were even caught? How were you so sure you’d even escape?”

“Dear, Will,” Hannibal smiles fondly. “I could have walked out of the Baltimore State Hospital whenever I wished. I only stayed because I promised you I would be there. I was waiting until you came to your senses.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call running away with the Chesapeake Ripper ‘coming to my senses,’ Hannibal,” Will laughs again.

“No, perhaps not.”

“So you warned her to get in the area before you left the hospital, but what if you hadn’t actually escaped? What if Dolarhyde didn’t make that possible? Surely she would’ve been annoyed that she’s had to do all this travelling for nothing.”

“Mr. Dolarhyde didn’t make it possible, he just made it happen at that moment. Trust me, Will, I always have a plan for every outcome. Surely you would know this by now. I did save us from falling off the cliff, did I not?” Hannibal raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, well that seemed like more of a move of self preservation than anything. How did you know I wouldn’t let go of you? You didn’t hold on to me at all, I could’ve fallen.”

“I wouldn’t have attempted that if I didn’t know for certain you wouldn’t let go. Regardless, if you would have, I would have let go and gone with you.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” There is a hint of sarcasm in Will’s voice. Hannibal ignores it.

“May I ask again why you tried that? What were you attempting to achieve?”

“I intended for us to die. I already told you I couldn’t live without you. I figured it was the only option because I honestly thought a SWAT team was gonna descend upon us the second Francis took his last breath,” Will tells him. “They would’ve just killed you, I can guarantee it. If you would’ve died, and they either would’ve taken me in as an accessory, or I would’ve been returned home to Molly. Neither of those things would’ve been good for me. The last three years, I’ve thought of you in some way every day. If you would’ve died on the bluff, I probably would’ve ended up killing myself before the end of the month.”

“You easily could’ve gone on without me, Will.” Hannibal’s voice sounds pained and that takes Will by surprise.

“No, Hannibal. And it’s not just because I’d miss you,” Will says quickly. “But because I would feel so alone. Even if I went back home, Molly never really understood me. Not in the way you do. There’s dark in me. I know this, you know this. Even if… even if I don’t want to kill regularly, I would still be alone with these thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about killing Dolarhyde, and you’re the only person in the entire world that can make me not feel alone in that.”

Hannibal seems to be at a loss for words, for once. Will doesn’t mind the silence from the other man. 

“I told Molly I wouldn’t be the same when I returned. I think I was already planning on dying when I said that, honestly,” Will shrugs. “Maybe I hate you in some ways for what you’ve done to me and to the people I loved, but at least with you, I don’t have to open up and retell those stories in depth when those things are bothering me. I can just give you a black eye and say a name and you’d know why.”

Hannibal stares at him, and the corner of Will's mouth turns up and Hannibal’s face softens. 

“You’re an insolent man,” Hannibal isn’t actually mad, though.

“Maybe, but you still love me,” Will jokes.

“Yes, I do.” Hannibal turns away, his face dropping a bit.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, more of a saying than anything.” Will apologizes.

“Not to worry, Will. I know how you meant it, I just responded honestly.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” 

They fall into a silence after that, and remain that way until the sun sets and they decide to find something for dinner. After dinner, Will takes Hannibal’s place at the helm and asks if he wants to rest, but Hannibal shakes his head. 

“I will sit up with you, I’m not tired enough to sleep.”

“Okay,” Will nods, getting ready to continue sailing. After a few minutes he speaks, “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last night.”

Hannibal looks up at him. “And have you made a decision?”

“No,” Will shakes his head. He has, but he wants to know how Hannibal would make it work, if Will were to say yes. He knows he won’t say yes. “I don’t know yet. I’m just wondering how exactly it would work out. I mean I still don’t want to leave Walter like that, and if he sees his mother murdered, well, that’ll fuck him up for life. That’s not what I’m wondering about, though. How are we going to get into the States and out with that many dogs? Travelling with one or two would be hard enough, but all of them? We wouldn’t have time to rehome any of them.”

“It can all be arranged in a way that Walter will never have to see her body, except for a funeral, and certainly will not see her be killed. I am very capable of that, Will. As for the dogs, though, yes, it would be rather difficult,” Hannibal agrees. “It will not be for a while, but Chiyoh can always hold on to a few, or find new homes for any you are willing to part with. I know you don’t trust many people with them, but Chiyoh is reliable and she can certainly be thorough when finding new homes. You haven’t even decided yet, and I think it would be unwise to wait any less than six months to attempt anything. We do have time, Will.”

Will nods. Hannibal makes it all seem so easy, like taking lives is nothing but a hobby. Will supposes that, to Hannibal, that’s exactly what it is.

When they are less than an hour out, Hannibal goes through the boat to make sure everything is in place and ready to be taken off if needed, as well as to make sure they will pass through customs with minimal questions or suspicions. It helps that he owns property, and he assures Will that everything will go by smoothly, but Will feels his anxiety rising the closer and closer they get. 

Finally, when they pull into the marina in the early morning, Hannibal is back above deck with all of their important documents in hand. He hands Will his passport and offers him a comforting smile. 

“Allow me to do all of the talking,” Hannibal says. 

And Will does. The agent seems to raise an eyebrow at the wound on Will’s cheek and the bruising on their faces from their fight, but he doesn’t say a word. The boat passes the inspection and Hannibal tells Will where he can dock, in a spot Hannibal already owns. 

They remove their bags from the boat and Will steps off onto the dock unsteadily, not quite having his land legs yet. He feels a firm hand on his shoulder offering some stability and he turns to look at Hannibal.

“Ready?” Hannibal asks. He offers Will his arm and Will takes it.

The walk to the house isn’t far, but when they come up to the driveway, they both stop in their tracks. A light is on upstairs.

“You’re sure this is the right house?” Will asks. His grips tightens on Hannibal’s arm, nerves getting the better of him. He thinks for a second that the FBI has beat them here. 

“Yes, Will.” Hannibal responds, impatiently. His impatience isn’t directed at Will, not entirely. “Chiyoh must have called someone to check on things and they forgot to shut the light off. It is probably nothing to worry about.”

Hannibal doesn’t relax next to Will, though, and he knows something has to be wrong if Hannibal is unsure about why the light is on. Hannibal bends down and lifts up a rock, and Will assumes it was to look for a spare key. Hannibal makes a frustrated noise when nothing turns up. 

“I think whoever checked on the house forgot to replace the key. No matter. You know how to kick in a door, if I remember correctly? We will just have it replaced later today.” 

“I, uh yeah. Stand back, I guess.” Will hands Hannibal the bags he was carrying and waits for Hannibal to back up.

It has been a while since the last time, but Will is still able to get the door to swing open on its hinges. There is a crashing noise and heavy stomping and it takes Will a moment to realize the sounds aren’t coming from him or Hannibal, but from inside the house, as if someone has leapt up and is now running to see what is going on.

A young woman with dark hair cut into a bob comes bounding down the stairs in her pajamas, wielding a baseball bat in her hands. Will’s mouth drops open and he hears Hannibal drop the bags on the stoop behind him.

The woman stops and drops the bat in her hands with a clunk when it hits the hardwood, and Will stares at her as she stares back, her eyes flickering back and forth between the two men in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger? I'm sure you know who it is. Make sure to leave comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

Will cannot believe his eyes. He turns around to look at Hannibal to ask if he’s hallucinating, but what he sees on Hannibal’s face is confirmation that the girl in front of him is very real, and very there. Hannibal has tears in his eyes, and shock written across all of his features. Will turns back around and pushes himself forward, through the doorway and into the foyer of the home. He goes right to her and pulls her into his arms, an embrace so tight there is no way she can get out if she tries. He holds on tight as if letting go will make her disappear like she had so many times in the past.

“Will? Hannibal? How?” Abigail Hobbs asks, her voice barely audible with her head buried in Will’s chest.

“We should be asking you the same question,” Hannibal says from behind Will. “With all due respect, Abigail, I killed you.”

“Evidently not,” she responds. Yeah, evidently not. Will cannot believe it. Cannot believe Abigail is alive and he’s hugging her and she didn’t die on that floor that night in Baltimore. 

Will finally loosens his grip after several long minutes and holds her at arm’s length away. 

“You were dead… they told me you were. Abigail what are you… how did… What the fuck?” Is what Will decides on. 

“I’ll explain everything to you, I promise, but can we sit? And maybe find something to prop the door shut, maybe. Coffee?”

Both Hannibal and Will nod, then look at each other as Abigail walks away to find something to put behind the door and to make coffee for the three of them.

“You’re telling me this wasn’t some elaborate plan to surprise me again?” Will hisses when Abigail is out of earshot. Hannibal is picking up the bags he had dropped and looks at Will, annoyed and impatient. 

“You think I would’ve allowed you to give me this,” Hannibal points at his bruised face. “If I knew she were still alive? No, Will, I had no idea.”

“Well, shit.”

“Indeed.”

Abigail returns with a chair to put behind the door and then goes off towards the kitchen, motioning for them to follow. Will looks around the house as he passes through it. It’s definitely Hannibal’s at its core, but scattered around is proof that it has actually been lived in, hints of Abigail’s personality. She turns on the coffee maker and goes to the fridge to pull out some fruit. Will reaches for one of the bananas she set on the counter, and both men sit on the stools across the island from where Abigail stands.

No one says a word as Abigail pulls coffee mugs from the cabinets and fills them. She places a cup in front of both men and pushes a bowl of sugar cubes in front of them, before taking a stool across from Hannibal and Will.

“I’ll tell you everything, but please, don’t be upset with me.”

“Of course, Abigail,” Will promises. “I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

“Okay. When… everything happened that night in Baltimore… We were taken to the hospital, and I lived, “ she shrugs. “But a lady came to see me. Last name Prurnell, maybe? Anyway, I was laying there in my hospital bed recovering, she told me you,” she points to Will, “had been gutted, but that you’d live, and that Alana and Jack were fine, and that you,” a point to Hannibal, “had run off. She told me that she knew I was a victim, that everything was going to be okay, but that I would do best if I disappeared, or whatever. I agreed. Everyone was supposed to believe I was dead and I could live my life under a new identity. I would be safe and finally free from Hannibal Lecter, as they said.”

“Okay, but you were dead, they-” Will starts.

“And no one ever saw my body. You were recovering, Will, everyone I knew was either in a hospital bed, had run away, or was dead. That’s why it worked so well. No one was around to see the body that didn’t exist.”

“So you decided to come here?” 

“Hannibal told me about this house once. Said a long time ago that if anything happened to him, this place would be safe for me and that I’d have a home and money to live. When I remembered that, I used what I had to get here. I’ve been here since. No one else knows about this place, I told the FBI I didn’t even want them knowing where I was. I told them I wasn’t going to trust anyone, and after everything they just agreed.”

“I still don’t get it. Hannibal knows how to make sure someone dies,” Will shakes his head.

“Yeah, I really don’t know how I managed to survive it, but who am I to question modern medicine, you know? I’m grateful to be alive. I’ve been living comfortably here. I’ve met people, I have a job as a waitress. Things have been really good.”

“Why didn’t you reach out to me? Why didn’t you at least call me? I’ve spent years thinking you were dead,” Will chokes. Hannibal puts a hand on the small of his back, anchoring him in the moment and offering him comfort. 

“I needed you to let go of me, Will. And I needed to let go of my old life. It wasn’t easy to leave everyone, but I couldn’t keep living a life so close to the FBI. I needed to disappear and make sure no one knew I was living in one of his homes. It would’ve been too risky to tell you. They would’ve put me away on the spot, you know that. Besides. I’ve been sort of bitter, I guess. I mean, and don’t get mad, but I wouldn’t have been forced into this if you hadn’t betrayed Hannibal, and left when he asked.”

“Don’t even remind me,” Will groans. “I’ve regretted that decision every single day for years, Abigail. Had I known you were alive, there would’ve been no question about me going. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“I’ve come to terms with it in the last year or so. Now you know pretty much the whole story. Can you tell me why you’re here? Or rather, how? I have work in an hour, I’d like to know.”

“You don’t know anything, then?” Hannibal speaks this time.

Abigail shakes her head, “I don’t watch the news, and I try to steer clear of any news about you. I did see that you’re officially insane, though. Congrats on that. I take it you escaped.”

Hannibal ignores the comment about his sanity and nods. “It’s a bit of a long story. In short, I was being used as bait to catch another serial killer and he intercepted our convoy. Will and I ended up killing him at the house on the bluff, and took a boat South, where we were joined by Chiyoh. I believe I’ve told you of her. She assisted us to Florida and then took that boat back North, we came by another boat from Florida. Here we are.”

“Did the other killer give you those?” She points at Will’s stab wound on his cheek and then at the bruises on both of their faces.

Will laughs, “Stab, yes, bruises, no. We gave those to each other.”

Abigail looks at them each in turn, expecting an explanation. 

“We got in a fight. Not to worry, I believe the reason for it has been resolved,” Hannibal turns his head to Will and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Abigail, don’t worry. We won’t be fighting each other in your house, or anything,” Will agrees. Then to change the subject, “Hannibal got shot, by the way.”

“Are you serious? Where?” 

Hannibal stands and pulls his shirt up to show her the exit wound on his stomach.

“Jesus. You survived that? You didn’t go see a doctor did you?”

“I am a doctor, Abigail.”

“Right,” she drops it. “Well, I need to get ready for my shift. I’ve been living in the master bedroom and I’m not giving it up, no matter how much you beg. The other rooms should have sheets on the beds, and towels in the bathrooms. I haven’t touched them much since I got here. Also I moved all your clothes to one of the other room’s closets. I’m sure you can find them. Make yourself at home, I guess. It is your house after all.” 

With that, she takes her mug to the sink and goes back up the stairs. Will turns on his stool to look at Hannibal. It does not feel real that Abigail is alive. Quite frankly, it does not make that much sense, either. 

“How many houses did you say you have?”

“Several. I can’t recall the exact number. Some were found by the FBI so it is hard to say.”

“What are the odds we both choose the one in Cuba?”

“This was the only house I told her about, and it was the easiest for us. Weirder things have happened than us choosing the same destination as her,” Hannibal shrugs.

“Weirder things, such as her being alive? Yeah,” Will concurs. “Really fucking weird.” 

“Yes, well. We can discuss this more later. I would very much like a shower and to sleep in a real bed. And then I want to go to the market and get food for dinner tonight. I have not cooked in quite some time.” Hannibal slides off the stool and crosses the kitchen to take stock of what spices Abigail already has in the cupboards, then goes to look in the fridge to see what other ingredients she has.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Hannibal, geez,” Will laughs. “She’s a twenty-something year old that lives on her own. You can’t expect her to have everything you need.”

“I was hoping my culinary skills had rubbed off on her while she was living with me, but I see they have not.”

Will laughs. “Well, to be fair, that’s a lot to learn. You’ve had a lot longer than she did.”

Hannibal still seems disappointed when he closes the fridge. He looks at Will, “Yes, you’re correct. I will have to pick up quite a lot, though. I may need your help, if you would like to accompany me.”

“Sure. Let’s go shower, then sleep.” He stands up and walks to the kitchen door, waiting for Hannibal to follow. They take the stairs together, Will slightly in front. When he reaches the upstairs landing, he stops and looks down the hall where there are several closed doors. 

“I’m unsure which room Abigail moved my clothes to, but they both have bathrooms with showers, so if you want to go in that one, then we can meet wherever the clothes are.” Hannibal points Will in the direction of a bedroom and turns to go into another.

Will walks through the bedroom and wonders how big the master must be if that one is as large as it is. In the room is a queen sized bed with a tall wooden headboard against one wall, as well as a set of armchairs off to the side. Along one of the walls is a high bookshelf, though there aren’t any books on it. Will wonders if Hannibal has a library in this house, or if all of his books are still in Baltimore somewhere. He turns and opens up the closet doors, but finds no clothes, so he figures they were in the other bedroom. 

Will finds the towels when he walks into the bathroom. He strips his clothes, and turns around taking in the bathroom. Like the bedroom, the bathroom is big, too. The shower is bigger than the one on the boat, that’s for sure. He steps in and sees that Abigail must have brought in soap and shampoo before she went to change for work, and he’s grateful for it. Wanting to save water, they hadn’t even used the shower on the boat, and Will knows he stinks. His hair is a mess, there’s sweat caked on his skin. He has no idea how Hannibal got through the entire voyage, and even let Will sleep in his arms.

Standing under the hot spray, Will can’t help but let tears roll down his cheeks. It sets in what has just happened. Abigail is  _ alive, _ and she is healthy, and she is happy. It does not make sense to him at all, but after everything, Will decides that it doesn’t even matter. They can finally be a family like they were supposed to be all those years ago. Will cries tears of real joy for what felt like the first time in his life. It’s probably not, but the last few weeks have felt like an entire lifetime.

Will isn’t sure how long he stays in the shower, but by the time he’s out and dried off, a towel wrapped around his hips, Abigail is knocking on the bedroom door to let him know she’s leaving for work. He opens the door, looks down the hall and smiles at the sight of Hannibal and Abigail hugging in front of the bedroom Hannibal had been in. Will can see that Hannibal is whispering something into her hair, but he doesn’t want to intrude, so he walks back into the bedroom he came from and sits down on the bed, still in just his towel.

A minute later, Hannibal comes to stand in the door frame, his cheeks stained with tears. He is already dressed in a regular t-shirt and pajama pants. Despite the casualness of the outfit, Will knows it probably still cost more than his entire wardrobe at home. That’s just how Hannibal is.

“I am having quite a difficult time believing any of this is real,” Hannibal tells him. He looks absolutely exhausted, the composure he usually has is no one to be seen. The man in the doorway looks more human than Will has ever seen him. 

“I know how you feel,” Will nods. He stands up and crosses the room to where Hannibal is standing, and pulls the older man in for a hug. “We need to sleep. It’s been over twenty four hours.”

“I fear we’ll wake up and be back on the boat, with no Abigail waiting for us here. Even worse, would be waking up back in my cell under Alana’s care. I may wake up and find out that everything that has happened, never did.” 

Will squeezes Hannibal even tighter. He says softly into Hannibal’s neck, “We’re here, in Cuba. We’ve escaped, and Abigail is here, and alive. This is real, Hannibal. We’ll still be here when we wake up, I promise.”

“Our roles seemed to have reversed since we met. I used to be the one grounding you in a moment, telling you what was real. Although, I admit I was not always truthful back then,” Hannibal laughs. It comes out as a half-sob.

“I promise you I’m telling the truth. Come on,” Will lets go of Hannibal and walks off towards the other bedroom. Hannibal follows closely behind and stops to stand behind Will when they reach the closet. This room, Will notices, is very similar to the one he had been in before. This one, though, has a full closet of clothes that are unmistakably Hannibal’s. Plaid linen suits, paisley ties, fancy shoes. There are sweaters, silk pajama pants and a few t-shirts. Will decides he will not be wearing any of these clothes if he has a choice, and makes a mental note to ask Hannibal if they could go clothes shopping later, for something that will actually fit him and isn’t worth more than his old house in Wolf Trap. 

Will pulls out a pair of boxers and a t-shirt and glances at Hannibal over his shoulder. Hannibal turns around to face the other direction before Will drops the towel from his hips and steps into the underwear. He pulls the shirt over his head and turns to walk to the bed, Hannibal following. They don’t need to talk about sharing the bed. They just know.

Hannibal pulls the dark blue comforter back and removes some of the fancy pillows, dropping them on the ground. Both men climb under the covers on opposite sides of the bed and turn on their sides to look at each other.

“I think this bed is more comfortable than any bed I’ve ever slept in,” Will yawns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I sleep until tomorrow morning.”

Hannibal laughs, “It’s not quite as nice as the bed I had at my home in Baltimore, but it’s considerably better than the one I had at the hospital.” 

“Tell me about your time there,” Will whispers. He thinks for a second, then adds, “only if you want to.”

“Another time, Will.”

Will nods and closes his eyes. He falls asleep within seconds.

When Will finally wakes up, Hannibal isn’t in the bed with him anymore. He sits up and stretches his arms and back, then swings his legs out of bed and stands up. The carpet is soft under his bare feet as he walks to the bathroom to use the toilet. Hannibal brought their bags from the boat up at some point, and he digs his toothbrush out and brushes his teeth.

He leaves the bathroom and crosses the room to the closet where he finds a robe, which he puts on over his t-shirt and boxers. Will yawns, his body still tired. A clock on the wall says it’s a little after noon and that he had slept for no more than six hours, but without Hannibal in bed, he doesn’t want to keep sleeping, especially if they want to get anything done that they have planned for the day.

He takes the stairs down to the main floor and can hear voices from the kitchen. At the base of the stairs, he takes in more of the house. There is a sitting room through a door right next to the front door. He peeks his head in and sees several paintings on the dark walls and he realizes how much of this house is like Hannibal’s old home. He sees a harpsichord in the corner and smiles. He will have to ask Hannibal to play sometime.

He walks down the hallway to the kitchen and the voices become clearer. Abigail is home from work and she’s talking to Hannibal. Will stops outside the kitchen door and listens. 

“... you guys, like, together, or…?” Abigail’s voice comes through the solid wooden door. 

“No, we’re not,” Hannibal replies. 

“But you love him, right?”

“Yes.”

Will already knows it but he can’t help but feel surprised that he is being so honest about it with Abigail. Abigail doesn’t need to hear about their issues with each other, how they’re still dancing around each other after all these years.

“You know he loves you, too, right?”

“Yes, I believe he does.”

Will stops breathing for a second.  _ Is it obvious to everyone?  _ He asks himself. He’s still trying to fully figure out his feelings, and now that Abigail is alive, he realizes that a lot of what made him so angry and hesitant about loving Hannibal isn’t even a valid reason. Their fight had been about Abigail. That’s why he was so mad that Hannibal wouldn’t kiss him back. Will decides he has heard enough, and doesn’t want to listen to the two of them discussing him like that. Will takes a deep breath, and backs up to the stairs quietly. 

He makes noise coming back down the hall to the kitchen this time, making sure they will hear him and not suspect him of eavesdropping. He pushes the door to the kitchen open, yawning.

“Morning,” he says.

“It isn’t morning anymore, but yes, good morning, Will,” Hannibal gives Will a warm smile.

Will rolls his eyes and sits on a stool at the counter.

“Abigail was just telling me that she got the rest of her shift off after she told her manager that her fathers unexpectedly showed up on her doorstep this morning,” Hannibal tells him.

_ Liar, _ Will thinks.“Fathers, huh?” Is what he says instead.

Abigail nods. “It made the most sense. Hannibal had given me a fake identity years ago, told me a backstory I was supposed to use, so I used that one. My dad and his European husband, who married some time after my mother died. I never told them much more than that, just that I moved here because I felt drawn, and that you guys had a home here you never used. It worked for them.” Abigail shrugs when she finishes talking. She’s pouring coffee into a mug and sliding it across the counter to Will.

“Mmm, thanks,” Will mumbles. “So what name do you use, then? I mean I’m assuming you can’t use your real name.”

Abigail shakes her head, “No, I’ve been using the name Hannibal gave me, too. Emilia Bellamy. He gave me all of those documents a long time ago, just in case. I used them. The FBI offered to help with an identity, and I let them, but I never use it. I didn’t want them to be able to track me.”

Will nods and sips his coffee. A thought pops into his head. 

“Hey do you have Internet access here?”

“Duh,” Abigail says, and walks out of the room. A minute later she comes back in with a laptop and sets it down in front of Will. 

Will thanks her and begins typing into the search bar. He snorts when he sees the featured article. Of course. 

“Listen to this.” He begins to read, “‘Murder Husbands Run Away Together, Again? Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are nowhere to be found following the murder of Francis Dolarhyde, also known as The Tooth Fairy, or The Great Red Dragon. They left a gruesome sight behind at the scene of the crime before disappearing. The body was found in a pool of blood at a house outside of Baltimore, and footage was uncovered from a camera that possibly belonged to The Tooth Fairy himself. It recorded his demise, as well as Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter standing on the cliff edge in a loving embrace right after. From there, Graham seems to pull both him and Lecter off the cliff, but that’s not the last we see of the Murder Husbands. They emerge over the top of the cliff and return to the house. For a very while there’s no movement on the camera until they can both be seen, carrying duffle bags, and holding hands as they walk off into the night.’” 

“I’m guessing Freddie wrote that?” Abigail asked.

Will nods, “I can’t imagine why Jack would let her see that footage, though. They wouldn’t release that to the public, I don’t imagine.”

“Are there photos of the scene?” Hannibal asks.

Will nods and turns the laptop so he can see. Sure enough, Freddie has gotten photos of the entire house, as well as the body on the patio. 

Hannibal smiles slyly. “Miss Lounds was one of the people I had called before we departed. I decided I owed her a favor after she ran that article that got Chilton captured by Francis.”

“Jack must have loved that. I can’t imagine why he actually let her run this. Or…” Will pauses. “Jack wants us to know that they found the footage. He wants us to know that he knows I went with you willingly. He wants everyone to know what we’re capable of together, maybe.”

“Why didn’t you guys take the camera with you?” Abigail asks. “Now they know which direction you walked in.”

“It slipped my mind,” Will shrugs. He looks at Hannibal.

“We had an eventful night. I was more concerned with getting us to safety and ensuring we had money, food and our documents. And as I said, I wanted to give Freddie something.”

“Okay well, you didn’t say anything about this house on tape did you?” Abigail questions, fear creeping into her voice.

Hannibal shakes his head, “All they would know is that we took a boat, but Chiyoh is taking our first boat North. I believe she is very close to leaving it somewhere.”

Will is typing into the search bar yet again, looking for a different news site. When he finds what he’s looking for, he presses play.

Jack Crawford’s voice comes out of the laptop’s speakers, “The serial killer Hannibal Lecter escaped custody yesterday afternoon. We have a reason to believe that Special Agent Will Graham aided him in this escape. After killing several officers, as well as the serial killer known as The Tooth Fairy, Graham and Lecter were seen on camera fleeing the scene together. These men are very dangerous on their own, and even more so together. If you have any idea of their whereabouts, report it to the police. We urge everyone to stay inside as much as possible and lock your doors. We don’t know which direction they went, but we are putting as much manpower as we can into the search.”

Will can see just how exhausted Jack looks in the video. He smiles at the sight. Jack always thought Will was his man, but now Will is sitting in a kitchen with Hannibal Lecter, watching a beaten down Jack Crawford on a screen, calling for both of their captures. 

Will closes the video and shuts down the laptop. 

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t aid you in your escape. That was all the Dragon. Second, locking doors is not going to save anyone from us,” Will laughs.

“Tell me about it,” Abigail scoffs. 

“We will fix the door, Abigail,” Hannibal promises. He looks at Will. “I am going shopping soon for dinner if you would like to join me. Abigail already agreed to come along.”

“Yeah, I said I would. Let me go get dressed, and then we can go?” Will is already sliding off of his stool and heading out of the kitchen, leaving Hannibal and Abigail to go back to the actual conversation they were having before Will had interrupted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for a twist? Thanks for reading. Give comments and kudos. I promise Hannibal and Will are going to kiss for real soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the long wait! I promise to have a more consistent schedule with this one now that I'm done writing my series.

Will digs through their bag of clothes for a pair of pants that might fit him, knowing the clothes in the closet will be too big. It’s hot outside and he wonders if Hannibal has any normal t-shirts, but none come up. He sighs and grabs a button down shirt and pulls it on. Halfway through buttoning up the shirt, there’s a light knock on the door.

“Yeah? You can come in,” Will calls.

Abigail opens the door and pops her head in. 

“Oh I thought you were Hannibal.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed to see me,” she jokes. “Do you want a normal shirt? I have t-shirts.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Abigail leaves the room and comes back with a black t-shirt and a small bag. “Can I cover up those bruises? I have makeup.” 

She holds up the bag in her hand and he nods. Abigail hands him the shirt and Will turns around to face away from her, and unbuttons the shirt he was wearing. He pulls the black t-shirt over his head and pulls down on the hem that doesn’t quite go low enough for his tastes. It’s tight on him, but it is clearly meant to be an oversized shirt on Abigail. He’ll have to keep pulling it back down unless he wants the scar on his stomach to show. 

“Sit,” Abigail instructs, and he sits down on the bed. She takes the spot next to him and opens the makeup pouch. 

Will has no idea what she is pulling out, knowing nothing about makeup, but he trusts her to not go overboard. She takes out a brush and some product and begins putting it on his face when she speaks again, “What are you doing here?”

“We told you we had to leave.”

“No I mean, why are _you_ here? Why did you come with him? After everything?”

“I couldn’t lose him again. I’ve tried living without him, but I can’t.” Will looks anywhere but her eyes, which isn’t easy considering she is right in front of him and she’s putting makeup on his face. She is careful to avoid the cut on his cheek, but each bruise hurts when the brush moves over them.

“You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?” 

“I… I don’t know for sure.”

“Will, listen to me. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have run away with him. You left your entire life. You still had your dogs right? You left your dogs and ran away with him.”

“I left my wife and stepson, too,” Will says, almost embarrassed. 

Abigail stops what she’s doing and looks at him in disbelief. “No, you didn’t.”

Will nods. 

“Oh my God, Will. You left your family for a cannibal, and you don’t know if you love him? Get a grip.” She goes back to her work on his face. He winces when she rubs makeup into one of the worst bruises.

“Abigail, I don’t know anything anymore. Up until today I thought you were dead. These bruises? Are from me starting a fight with him after he talked about you. I have been so pissed off for years because of what I thought he did to you.” Will blinks back the tears that are threatening to fall. “Did you know he tried to cut open my head and eat my brain? Or that he sent a serial killer after my wife and kid?” 

“The wife and kid that you left behind to run away with him,” she reminds him.

Will groans impatiently. 

“I’m right, and I know I am. You don’t need to admit to me, don’t worry. He’s waiting for you to come around, though. Don’t make him keep waiting for too long,” Abigail says. She finishes with the makeup and puts it back into the small bag. “I’ve forgiven him for everything he’s done to me, by the way. If you’re still so pissed off about him trying to kill me, then please stop. I’m here, and I’ve forgiven him for that. You should, too.”

“It’s not just you. It’s tragedy after tragedy.”

“No one knows the pain you feel better than I do, Will. I’ve lost so much because of Hannibal, but here I am, living in his house, allowing you both to stay. I could’ve hit you both with that bat, but I didn’t. Why? Because despite all that tragedy, I still love him, and you. You were my fathers after my parents died, and I want us to be family again.”

Will wraps his arms around Abigail tightly and pulls her close. He rests his chin on the top of her head and lets the tears fall. After a second he lets go and looks at her. She has a bandana around her neck to cover the scars there. Her hair on one side is pushed behind her ear, the other side falling loosely where there is no ear to hold it back. Will knows Abigail has lost a lot because of Hannibal. She lost her parents because he made that call, she lost her ear for his own plans to frame Will, and she lost her chance at a new family when Hannibal ripped everyone apart that night. 

“We can be family again,” Will promises. He wipes the tears off his face.

Abigail smiles, tears welling up in her eyes. “I need to fix your face now. Are you done crying?” 

Will laughs and nods. Abigail fixes what had been ruined by the tears and stands up to leave the room. Will gets up and follows her. Before she opens the door, she turns to him.

“You love him. It’s clear as day for everyone but you. I think you have for a long time, but you’ve been scared. Stop thinking so hard and just let it happen.”

With that, she turns back around and leaves the room, going back to her bedroom to leave her makeup bag. Will leaves the room and goes downstairs to find Hannibal looking at the laptop on the counter. He places a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder when he comes up behind him and looks at the screen Hannibal is looking at. 

“Anything good?” Will asks.

Hannibal shakes his head, “I was hoping there would be news of our boat, but no such luck.”

Will walks away from where he stands behind Hannibal and leans up against the counter. The shirt rides up his stomach again and he has to pull it down. Hannibal looks at him and tries to suppress his grin.

“What?” Will asks.

“Is that Abigail’s shirt?” Hannibal is fully grinning now, having given up trying to hide his amusement.

“Yeah it’s a little small for my liking,” Will admits. “I want to go clothes shopping. I can’t wear your stuffy suits and fancy shoes.”

“Very well. Clothes and shoes for you. Dinner ingredients for me. Someone who can fix the front door for Abigail.”

“If you have the tools I can fix the door. It’s not too hard of a task.”

“We will go to a hardware store, then. If you’re sure?”

Will nods. He looks at Hannibal and sees that Abigail must have covered up his bruises before she went upstairs to find Will. He wonders what they talked about while she was putting makeup on Hannibal’s face, but he doesn’t let himself linger on those thoughts for long because Abigail walks into the room. She’s carrying several pairs of sunglasses and a baseball cap. 

“You probably won’t be recognized, but just in case,” she sets the accessories on the counter. Hannibal picks up a pair of sunglasses and puts them on his face. They cover his cheekbones just enough that no one will notice the prominent feature. Abigail gives him a thumbs up.

Will puts the baseball cap on his head. “Are we ready?”

Hannibal closes down the laptop and nods. Abigail turns and leads the way to the garage where there is a black car. It was no Bentley, but it’s still nice, and probably still expensive. 

Hannibal starts walking towards the driver’s door and Abigail steps in front of him. 

“This might be your car, but I’ve been driving it for three years. You’re not moving my seat.”

Will is already getting into the front passenger seat and laughs at Hannibal’s shocked expression. 

“Abigail Hobbs, were you just rude to the Chesapeake Ripper?” Will teases.

“No, I was Emilia Bellamy being rude to my stepfather,” she jokes back. “Besides. I’m not scared of him.”

“Perhaps you should be,” Hannibal warns, climbing into the back seat behind Abigail’s seat. It’s a weak threat. If Hannibal wants to keep Will, he can’t hurt Abigail again, and Will is sure he knows that. 

Will and Abigail both look at each other and laugh. Will feels pure happiness, sitting in the car next to Abigail laughing at Hannibal’s expense. He feels like they deserve that after everything. 

Abigail turns the key and opens the garage door. When the car starts, the radio turns on to a pop song, and Will can feel Hannibal’s annoyance in the backseat. He grins and turns up the song.

“You’re still like, rich, rich right?” Abigail asks, looking at Hannibal in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, I am still quite wealthy. I am a count, after all. Will and I brought close to ten thousand cash, but there’s quite a sum of money in each of my untraceable accounts. You’ve been living comfortably, yes?”

Abigail nods. “I only took the waitressing gig so the locals wouldn’t think I’m some spoiled trust fund baby. Even if I may kinda be one.”

“You are quite spoiled,” Hannibal agrees. 

“Yeah, well. I only ask because you both need phones. If anything so I can call, and you can call each other. And your own laptops, or tablets, or whatever. You’re not hogging mine every time you want to research yourselves.”

“That’s fair,” Will says. “Okay, electronic store, hardware store, clothes, and groceries last.” 

Abigail drives in the direction to the shops. Will turns to look at Hannibal in the backseat. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

“What would you like to have?”

“Would now be a good time to mention I’m a vegetarian now?” Abigail asks, keeping her eyes on the road. 

Will turns to look at her, surprised.

“Very well. Perhaps pasta, then,” Hannibal suggests after several long moments of silence. 

“Vegetarian, huh?” Will asks.

Abigail swallows. “Yeah. Something about finding out my dad was feeding me human, and then finding out Hannibal was, too, kind of put me off all meat.”

Hannibal stays quiet for the rest of the ride to the electronics store. 

Abigail picks out their phones for them, with a promise to teach them how to do everything. 

“I’m not that old,” Will reminds her.

“Fine, then I won’t show you how to do anything at all and you can figure it out yourself.” 

Hannibal picks out an iPad for himself and Will chooses a laptop. Hannibal doesn’t even look at the total before handing a credit card over to the cashier. Will does, though and gawks. Hannibal must not have been lying when he said he was wealthy, if the price doesn’t even faze him. 

Once back in the car, Abigail activates the new phones for them and puts her number in both of their contacts. She adds both of their new numbers to the other’s phone and explains where the call apps are.

“Thank you, Abigail, but I do know how to use a smartphone,” Will says impatiently as he grabs the phone out of her hand. 

“As do I,” Hannibal says, reaching for his. 

“Fine, I believe you.” Abigail pulls out of their parking spot and drives to the next destination. 

Will picks up all the necessary tools for fixing a broken door jamb. Luckily the entire door and frame don’t need to be replaced. 

When they get back in the car, Hannibal asks if he could be dropped off at the grocery store while Will shops for clothes. 

Will turns to look at him. “Are you sure we should split up? What if someone sees one of us? If you get taken and I’m not there...”

Hannibal leans forward and puts a hand on Will’s shoulder. 

“That will not happen, I promise. Do you trust me?” 

“I do,” Abigail answers instead, signaling to turn into the grocery store parking lot. She comes to a stop in front of the entrance. “Call when you’re done and we’ll come back to get you.”

Hannibal doesn’t get out right away. “Will, if you would prefer to stay together then we can.”

Will shakes his head. “No, I trust you. Go ahead.”

“Very well. Take this. Purchase anything you would like,” Hannibal says as he hands Will a credit card. 

As soon as Hannibal is out of the car, Abigail starts driving again. 

“You seemed really worried about letting him go off on his own,” she observes. 

“You’re trying to bait me into a conversation where I talk about my feelings again.”

“Is it working?” 

“No.” 

Abigail lets out a huff of air and focuses on the road again.

\----

  
  


“So how’s everyone back home?” Abigail asks once her and Will are back in the car. Will was able to find enough clothes and shoes to last him the time they’re here, and maybe a bit longer, too. 

“Well, I left the FBI and got married. When Jack came knocking again, he was still Jack. Bella died sometime before I chased Hannibal to Europe, after we all recovered from that night. Uh. Chilton got burnt alive so he’s like, crispy now. Kind of my fault,” Will scratches the back of his head. “Alana got married and has a kid now. Freddie’s still obsessed with me. Am I forgetting anyone?”

“Chilton’s… crispy,” Abigail repeats. “But he’s alive? Like he lived through being burnt alive?”

“Yeah, he’s never going to die at this point. Every time something happens and we’re all sure that’s it for him, he comes crawling back,” Will laughs.

“I guess me and Chilton have that in common.”

Will nods. “I am extremely grateful that you’ve managed to come crawling back. Chilton, on the other hand…”

Abigail laughs at that.

“So Dr. Bloom’s married? Is he nice? I mean I’m sure after being with a serial killer, she’d settle for just about anyone.”

“Oh, yes her wife is nice. You really don’t pay attention to any news at all?” Abigail shakes her head at Will’s question. “She married Margot Verger. Their son is the Verger heir.”

“Well, damn. Good for her, then.”

“Yeah, good for her,” Will agrees. “So how about you? Seeing anyone? Any friends? What do you do for fun?”

“Well, _dad,_ if you must know. No, I'm not currently seeing anyone. I do have a few friends at work, but other than that, I really keep to myself. Trust doesn’t always come easy to me.”

“I hear you, there.”

Will’s phone starts to ring in his pocket and he digs it out, smiling at the name on his screen.

“I see you grinning, and you’re telling me you don’t know if you’re in love,” Abigail mutters.

Will glares at her and hits accept.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

“Hello, darling,” Hannibal responds. Will doesn’t even have time to question his word choice before Hannibal starts speaking again. “I’m almost finished checking out at the store. Are you and Emilia almost finished?”

“Uh yeah. We’re almost to the grocery store. Maybe five minutes?”

“Excellent.”

“Alright see you.”

“Love you, too,” Hannibal says. Will is about to question Hannibal, but the line has already disconnected. He pulls his phone from his ear and just stares at it.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Abigail asks, turning her head slightly away from the road to look at him.

“Hannibal started the call by calling me ‘darling’ and ended it by saying ‘love you, too,’ even though I didn’t say anything to warrant that response.”

“Well, maybe you should have,” Abigail shrugs. Will glares again, and she sighs, “I’m sure it was just him keeping up appearances in front of other people.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Abigail turns into the parking lot and Hannibal is standing at the curb in front of the entrance, a cart full of grocery bags.

Will gets out of the car to help with the bags, and Hannibal kisses him on the cheek.

“What are you-” Will tries to ask but Hannibal hushes him.

“The cashier made advances toward me, and I need her to accept that I am not interested,” Hannibal whispers into Will’s ear. 

Will looks in through the store window and sees that the cashier is watching them with a look of disappointment on her face. When Will catches her looking, she quickly turns away to continue ringing someone else’s groceries up.

Hannibal moves away from Will to start packing bags into the trunk of the car. Will, having forgotten he was going to help, just climbs back into the passenger seat and sighs. 

“What was that about?” Abigail asks.

“Someone flirted with him, so he’s showing me off,” Will says as he sinks further into his seat. 

“I hope he doesn’t consider that rude of her. Has he talked to you about… you know?”

“Hannibal wants to kill my ex wife. He made that very clear, but he hasn’t talked about whether or not he’ll be picking up his... regular hobbies. I assume it’s only a matter of time.”

“Well, you should probably bring it up. I won’t stop him, but I’d prefer he doesn’t kill one of my friends.”

Will laughs. “Shall I suggest a murder victim screening process to him? He’ll have to present the victim to the jury and we decide whether or not they’re guilty enough to be killed and eaten?”

Abigail grins and nods, but doesn’t say anything because Hannibal is opening his door and getting into the backseat. 

On the drive home, Hannibal intently reads something on his new phone. Will watches him in the rearview mirror and smiles at the way he holds his phone close to read the small print. After a few moments, Hannibal begins frowning.

“Something wrong?” Will asks.

“Miss Lounds has set up an email for Murder Husband spottings,” Hannibal says, not looking up from the screen.

“Wonderful,” Will says, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Hannibal hums. “She says she will be following up on as many leads as she can.”

“You should mess with her,” Abigail suggests. “Send in a picture, but say it’s from somewhere in Europe or Asia.”

Will shakes his head. “The FBI will track us here if we send a photo from here. We’d need to leave the country and send it from a library or something. Or we need a really good VPN. Actually, we should be using VPNs anyways.”

“We could send her a photo from here on our last day here before we move again,” Hannibal says. “That could compromise Abigail, though.”

“Move? You guys aren’t staying?” Abigail asks. 

“It’s not realistic. Eventually we’ll be recognized, or cause a stir. Hannibal wants to show me places, too, so we weren’t planning on staying long,” Will tells her.

“Well, can I come with? I mean, I love it here, but I want to see the world if it’s an option.”

Will turns to look at Hannibal. Will doesn’t want to drag Abigail into their lives, a life where they are planning on killing Bedelia. Then there would be every other person Hannibal deems worthy of sacrifice. Will isn’t even entirely sure if _he_ wants that kind of life, and to bring Abigail back into something she narrowly escaped is not his first choice. That said, he also doesn’t want to let her go so soon after getting her back.

“If you are sure, then you will always have a life with us for as long as you wish to stay,” Hannibal smiles. 

“Good. I want to go to Paris.”

“Well, I hate to ruin the surprise for Will, but I did intend on bringing him to France at some point. Of course, I am not in the best shape to travel right now, and these last days on boats have taken a toll on me, so we will be staying here for the time being.”

Back at the house, Will helps Hannibal carry the bags into the kitchen, and Abigail offers to put all of the groceries away for them. It’s not time for dinner yet, they’ve decided, and Will still needs to fix the front door, so Hannibal goes upstairs to take a nap. 

Will works on the door for a while, Abigail picks up some of her belongings scattered around the house and brings them to her room, and Hannibal rests. It all feels very domestic, like how a day would work back at home with Molly and Walter. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s weird to him that this is happening in a home with Hannibal, of all people. 

When the door is fixed, and can close properly, Will picks up all of his tools and brings them out into the garage. He gets all of his clothes and new shoes out of the car and carries them upstairs to the bedroom he’s sharing with Hannibal. There was no explicit agreement that they would continue sharing the room, but Will thinks Hannibal will agree either way. 

Hannibal turns to look at him when he enters the room.

“Not sleeping?” Will asks.

Hannibal shakes his head and there’s a clear grimace on his face. 

“You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

Hannibal nods. Will frowns and looks over to the bag where Hannibal keeps all of their pills. 

“I don’t need anything, Will. It’ll pass,” Hannibal says. His voice is strained, and Will wants to force him to take the painkillers, but he knows that won’t work out for him. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Will asks. He sets the bags down on the floor outside the closet, and opens it, waiting for Hannibal to answer. It takes longer than expected and Will begins to hang up his new shirts and pants, and puts all of his new underwear and their dirty clothes in a pile to be washed. 

Finally, Hannibal whispers, “Come lay with me.” 

Unable to deny such a simple request, Will takes off his shoes and lays down on the bed, facing Hannibal on his side. 

“I apologize if I overstepped on the phone and outside the grocery store today,” Hannibal says softly.

“You didn’t. I didn’t mind, I was just confused, is all,” Will admits. In this moment, it just seems right that the next words to come out of his mouth are, “I love you, too. I really do.” 

Hannibal tries to turn over on his side to face Will, but he lets out a pained groan at the movement and lays back down on his back. Will scoots closer and props himself up on an elbow so he can look down at Hannibal. He uses his other hand to reach out and caress Hannibal’s cheek, grazing his thumb over the scar on his cheekbone. 

“The whole reason I couldn’t forgive you is standing downstairs in the kitchen, Hannibal. Everything else you’ve done to me, none of that can be changed, and everything I’ve done to you is in the past, but we were given another chance to make things right with Abigail,” Will smiles. “I told her we can all be a family. It can be like it was supposed to be all those years ago. I’m sorry it took so long for me to agree to run away with you, but I had wanted to way back then, too, for what it’s worth.”

Hannibal closes his eyes and nods. “I know, Will. I know you did, but you did not run away with me, and that hurt us both. I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.”

Will leans down to rest his forehead against Hannibal’s and they lay there, breathing each other’s air for a second before Will says, “We won’t.”

He closes the distance and places a soft kiss on Hannibal’s lips, hesitant, at first, that he’ll be met with rejection, but this time Hannibal reciprocates. 

It’s over too soon when Hannibal tries to move and shouts in pain against Will’s lips. Will pulls away and puts a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder to push him back down on the bed.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just lay down,” Will soothes him. Hannibal lays back down on his back, and Will sits up to pull a blanket over the both of them. He lays down and rests his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, and lightly rests his hand on Hannibal’s stomach, careful not to hurt him any more than he is. Will never thought he would ever truly get to this point, where he’s so meticulous about Hannibal’s wellbeing, so gentle with such a dangerous man, but he’s not complaining that this is where they’ve ended up. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal murmurs.

“Hm?” Will hums into Hannibal’s shoulder. 

“For staying with me. Please don’t ever leave me,” Hannibal pleads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments and kudos! Comments keep me writing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me forever! Writer's block is a bitch, let me tell you. Hope it's okay even though not a lot happens. Also - not proofread so it something is really wrong I apologize.

“At this point, I don’t know if I could,” Will answers with a yawn. “I’m going to sleep for a bit. I only got a few hours.”

“Shall I wake you for dinner?” Hannibal asks. 

“Mm. Sure,” Will yawns again. 

Not quite used to touching Hannibal yet, Will turns away on his side and curls up. He replays the kiss in his head as he lays there and almost wonders if he moved too fast. It felt right, but now he’s unsure how much he can truly give Hannibal in the long run. 

After their fight on the boat, Will was aroused, but Hannibal had said it was a natural reaction to their position. Will has always been attracted to men, that’s not the problem. He knows now that he’s in love with Hannibal, that isn’t the issue either. The main problem that Will sees is that most of the touches from Hannibal in the past have caused pain. 

To move on from being physically harmed by someone on multiple occasions, even with a promise they won’t do it again, isn’t an easy feat. 

What a physical relationship might entail with Hannibal goes beyond love and attraction, but also takes into account all the trauma Will has faced at his hand over the years. He knows he wants to work through it, but he knows it will take time. Maybe even more time than Hannibal is willing to wait. 

The bed shifts next to him and there’s no pained groan, so Will doesn’t feel the need to stop Hannibal from moving. When an arm comes around his stomach, Will can’t help but flinch. He doesn’t mean to, not at all, but it still happens. 

Hannibal withdraws his arm back towards himself, but Will catches his hand and pulls him back without a word. Will can feel the heat of Hannibal’s body behind him and then Hannibal presses up against Will’s back. Hannibal holds Will as they both drift off to sleep. 

—-

Will slowly blinks awake when he feels a kiss to the back of his neck, and fingers rubbing circles on his stomach. He doesn’t remember where he is for a second and he feels a panic wash over him and his body tenses. Waking up in a bed that isn’t swaying from the ocean, with someone pressed to his back is new. 

Seeming to sense Will’s panic, Hannibal murmurs, “It’s just me.”

Remembering the kiss from earlier, it makes sense now. He made that first move and now Hannibal is taking what he has wanted for years. To be close to Will, to touch him in a way that isn’t medical. Almost all unnecessary touching up until now had been initiated by Will, with the exception of Hannibal touching his shoulder or his face once in a while. 

Will realizes that Hannibal hasn’t been able to touch anyone in three years. The last time being when he carried Will home from Muskrat farm and changed his clothes for him, then three years of nothing but frisks, haircuts and medical exams. Hannibal has to be entirely touch-starved and Will feels like he won’t be making it any better, still hesitant to be close to Hannibal. 

He turns around to face Hannibal and puts a hand on his cheek, which Hannibal leans into. 

“This is still going to be difficult for me,” Will whispers. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet Hannibal’s. “It’s all subconscious, the flinching, the panicking. It’ll take me a while to get used to touch from you, but I don’t want that to stop you from asking for something.”

“If you would feel more comfortable being the one to initiate, then that is perfectly fine with me.”

Will shakes his head. “I can’t be the only one.”

“I do not want you to be uncomfortable, so if there’s something I do that isn’t wanted, please tell me,” Hannibal says. 

Will opens his eyes then and nods. He whispers, “Okay.”

Hannibal brings a hand up to touch the one resting on his cheek, holding it to his skin. He turns his head slightly to kiss Will’s thumb and Will smiles faintly. It’s been so odd seeing the gentle side of Hannibal. Will had always known it was there, especially with the touches before the pain, so many years ago, but it was so easy to forget it. 

“I am going to make dinner now. I can come back up to get you when it’s ready unless you want to come down with me,” Hannibal says. He lets go of Will’s hand and sits up on the edge of the bed. 

“Did you even sleep at all?” Will asks. He sits up too and stretches. The stitches on his shoulder pull when he brings his arms above his head, but he ignores the pain. 

“For a bit. I will sleep tonight,” Hannibal tells him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you,” Will says, shaking his head. Hannibal is the only way he stays free, without him he’d have no money, no way to navigate the world, no way of getting new documents when his expire. Not only that, but he wouldn’t have anyone who understands him in the way he needs to be understood. Of course he’s going to worry about Hannibal now. 

He goes to the closet and pulls out a shirt that will fit him better than Abigail’s. He pulls the too small shirt over his head and puts it in the pile to be washed. He thinks back to the conversation he and abigail had started in the car outside the grocery store. He supposes it’s urgent enough that it should be brought up sooner rather than finding out when Hannibal starts killing again.

“Hey, um, I wanted to talk to you about something actually,” Will says, turning around as he goes to pull on the new shirt. Hannibal moved across the room silently and is now standing directly in front of Will. Surprised, he just holds the shirt in his hand and says, “Oh. Hello.” 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal smiles. “What did you wish to talk about?”

“Right. So… What are your plans for, uh… you know…” Will shifts on his feet and tries to find the words, to ask the question in a way that won’t get him stabbed. He looks down at his feet and wishes Hannibal were standing a few feet away, rather than a few inches. 

“You want to know if I will start killing again,” Hannibal says. “Or rather, when I will.”

“Yeah,” Will breathes. 

“I will refrain from killing for the duration of our stay here, as I’m not physically in good enough shape, but once we are in Europe I cannot make any promises,” Hannibal says with a shrug. “I have already said you do not need to join me and I stand by that.”

“Can I make a few conditions?” Will asks. He takes a step back so he can pull the shirt on without hitting Hannibal on accident, and once it’s on he steps forward again.

“I suppose.” 

“What were your criteria for picking victims? Like, really, it had to be more than just general rudeness.” 

Hannibal looks likes he’s thinking for a minute before he says, “I have killed people for making homophobic assumptions about me as I don’t tolerate bigotry, or anything like that. I have killed people who threatened my own freedom, or attempted to compromise my health, other situations such as those. But yes, beyond that, in many cases it was simply general rudeness. I allow different people different levels of rudeness depending on how I feel, but I do believe I killed someone for not holding the door for me once.” 

“Right, no more of _that._ I think we need to go for people that directly harm others. Other murderers, abusers of all kinds, _not_ people who don’t hold the door for you.” 

“We?” Hannibal raises an eyebrow. 

Will nods. “If I don’t kill anyone, I still want to approve of your victims, maybe even come with so I can watch you. I’m not saying I won’t participate, I’m saying that even _if_ I don’t, I want to be a part of that process in any way I choose. Maybe once in a while I’ll let you pick without my approval, maybe sometimes I’ll watch, or I won’t, or I’ll help, or I won’t. That’s all my call to make, though.” 

“Of course.” 

“And while we’re on it, you aren’t killing Molly.”

“No? When did you decide that?”

“The minute you asked, actually. And yes, I have continued to think about it, and no my answer hasn’t changed. It’s not, nor will it ever be, on the table,” Will says firmly. “I know you’re jealous and possessive, but she did nothing wrong by loving me, and it’s not her fault if I loved her back.” 

Hannibal doesn’t say anything to that, just watches Will, as if expecting - daring - him to say more about how he and Molly had loved each other. 

Will continues, “You were in prison, I rejected you for good reason. I know that you did it for me, turned yourself in for me, but there’s no reason I should have had to resort to a life of solitude just because you were imprisoned for crimes you _did_ commit. So, with that, there’s nothing that can truly give you reason to kill her. If she gets harmed, and I find out you had something to do with it, I will leave you. Not for her at that point, but because I’m _trusting_ you to listen to me and give me your word it will not happen.”

“I will not harm your ex-wife,” Hannibal says. 

“Or her son,” Will requests. 

“I will not harm your ex-wife, or her son,” Hannibal agrees. “You have my word, and I am a man of my word, always.”

“You better be, or I won’t forgive your betrayal. This can only work if we trust each other, and we give each other reason to trust each other. We’ve both abused trust, and feigned loyalty, but that’s done,” Will says. 

Hannibal nods. “Speaking of my word, I did give Alana mine that I would eventually go after her.”

Will shakes his head and says, “No.”

“I promised.”

“Well promise me that you won’t. That’s gotta be more important, right?” Will asks. He’s not so sure it really is, but he has to try. He knows that whatever reason Hannibal has, can’t entirely be justified. 

“And if I were to tell you that we can’t kill Bedelia?” Hannibal raises an eyebrow. 

“Fine. I don’t care one way or another _that_ much, Hannibal. It was an idea, but if that’s the price for Alana’s life then fuck it, Bedelia can live forever. If I expect you to make compromises then, yes, I will make them too.” 

This seems to render Hannibal speechless because he just opens his mouth then closes it again before finally just nodding once and turning away. 

“Please, just promise you won’t go after Alana or her family, Hannibal,” Will requests again. 

Hannibal sighs, facing away from Will, and Will thinks he might not say anything at all, just let the request hang in the air. Finally Hannibal turns and says, “I won’t make that promise right now.” 

Will stares at him for a second before nodding. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks out of the bedroom, down the hall then down the stairs. He’s rather disappointed, but he didn’t really expect much to begin with. Maybe Hannibal will come around and agree to not kill her, but Will thinks it’s probably unlikely he’ll get his way with this one. 

It’s probably better to let this go for now, not let it ruin the thing they have just started, but Will isn’t going to go back upstairs and tell that to Hannibal. How easy it would be to go upstairs, say he was wrong for making a request like that, apologize and tell Hannibal it’s okay, he can do whatever he wants. No, Will isn’t going to give in like that, but when Hannibal does decide to come downstairs, Will isn’t going to pretend he’s angry, either. 

In the kitchen, Will finds a note from Abigail saying she went out with friends and that they have the house to themselves for dinner. Will sighs, somewhat disappointed that they can’t have their first dinner with Abigail, too. 

When Hannibal comes downstairs, he stands in the kitchen doorway for a second and Will can feel his eyes on the back of his head. Will pours himself a glass of juice from the jug in the fridge, not facing Hannibal while he does. 

“Are you upset with me?” Hannibal asks after a minute. 

Will turns, cup in hand and takes a sip. “No,” he says simply. 

Hannibal takes a step into the kitchen and sees the note on the counter. He reads it with a frown. 

“It is only us for dinner tonight,” he says, walking around the island to get to the fridge, standing closer to Will now. Hannibal pulls out ingredients and moves to get a pot and a strainer from the cabinet, then turns to the stove. 

“You haven’t properly cooked in a long time, have you?” Will asks. He sets his glass down on the counter and decides to hug Hannibal from behind while he turns on the burner. He figures if he wants to get used to touching Hannibal, he needs to throw himself in head first. 

Hannibal barely acknowledges that Will is holding onto him and continues to move around the kitchen, Will shuffling along with him as he goes to fill a pot with water. He sets it on the stove to wait for it to boil. 

Once that’s taken care of, Hannibal places one of his hands over Will’s, where they’re clasped together in Hannibal’s stomach. 

“It has been quite some time since I’ve cooked, yes. You are not making it very easy by clinging to my back,” Hannibal says. There’s no hint of real complaint in his voice so Will doesn’t let go. Hannibal adds quietly, “I would very much like to kiss you properly now that I’m not in pain anymore.” 

Will hums in thought, then shakes his head against Hannibal’s back. “Not right now.” 

“Okay. You’re more than welcome to stay where you are, but if you want dinner to be done anytime soon, you may want to let go of me,” Hannibal says. He lets go of Will’s hands and doesn’t wait for Will to decide before he’s continuing his dinner preparation. 

Will lets go and goes to sit down on one of the stools at the counter. He opens up the new laptop he bought earlier and sets up all the settings before sighing. 

“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asks in response to the sigh. He doesn’t look up from his cutting board when he asks. 

“Just thinking about how if I log into my email or anything else, it’ll show my location as an active session and I didn’t sign out on my laptop at home, so Molly could have given my laptop to the FBI, waiting to see if I access any of my accounts,” Will explains. 

“You’ll just have to make a new email, then,” Hannibal shrugs. 

“Yeah, but I wish I could at least deactivate the one I already have. Or my Facebook account,” Will huffs. He already knows there’s probably a million posts on his wall asking him where he is, if he’ll come home, if he’s been kidnapped. He almost wants to make a new account just so he can look, but he ends up not doing it, in favor of making a new email. Not that he’ll be getting much anyways, but it’ll be good to have. He sets it up under his fake name. 

“I am quite lucky Alana allowed me access to a computer so I was able to deactivate my own very early on into my incarceration. Not that it didn’t stop people from finding other ways to contact me, though.” Hannibal pours boxed noodles into the boiling water, and Will’s surprised he’s not making them from scratch. Hannibal leans on the island across from Will, with his arms folded on the counter top. 

Will types in their names to the search bar to see if anything new has come up and when the first result shows, his face lights up. Hannibal raises an eyebrow, and Will motions for him to come around the other side of the counter. Leaning against Will’s back, Hannibal looks at the article over Will’s shoulder and they read it together. 

**_New Evidence of Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham’s Whereabouts_ **

_This evening a boat was found on a dock in Nova Scotia. An anonymous resident left a tip about a boat covered in blood docked in the wrong place. On board, the vessel was covered in blood that matched both Lecter and Graham. It was obvious the boat had been well-lived in, their hair on the pillows, their bloody bandages in the garbages, as well as food wrappers, and water bottles. A dusting for prints came up positive for both of them. A wedding band, that is believed to belong to Will Graham, was found on a table._

_When asked to comment, his wife, Molly Graham said, “It’s clear he ran with Lecter and intends to stay with him. I am sure even if he did try coming home to me, he wouldn’t make it home alive.”_

_The search is now in Canada, with the FBI teaming up with RCMP in an attempt to capture the fugitives. If you have any further information, call your local police._

When they finish reading, Will turns and looks up at Hannibal. “She got there fast.”

“Yes, Chiyoh has ways of making miraculous things happen. This is great for us,” Hannibal smiles. “They will spend a long time thinking we are in Canada, monitoring airports, all international travel in and out, boat purchases, car rentals, any information they can get their hands on. All the while, we will be here.” 

“How long before we move again?” Will asks. 

“I would be comfortable leaving in three weeks, but of course, if Abigail does wish to come with us, she may not be ready for that so soon,” Hannibal says. 

“If you and I go by boat, she could always fly. The FBI isn’t looking for her, she can have as much time as she needs and it would give us time to get a house ready,” Will suggests. 

Hannibal nods. “Three weeks, then. You and I will leave for Europe by boat, and that’ll give her plenty of time before we even arrive there. I have a house in the South of France.” 

“Of course you do,” Will nods. He turns back to the laptop in front of him and Hannibal goes back to making dinner. 

Will closes the laptop, not much else he can really do on it for the time being, and watches Hannibal cook. Hannibal doesn’t look up once while he finishes their dinner, or when he plates it, or when he carries their plates to the dining room. Will gets up and follows him, sitting to the left of the head of the table, while Hannibal sits down at the head. 

“Does this house have a creepy murder basement?” Will asks after he takes his last bite. 

“It has a secret basement, but it isn’t equipped with anything.” 

Hannibal stands with both of their empty plates and takes them to the kitchen. Will follows, and Hannibal goes into the pantry, where there’s a bunch of wine. 

“Abigail has not touched any of my wine,” Hannibal observes. He leans down and feels along the floor, then pulls up a trap door. “The basement is down there.” 

“If there’s nothing down there I don’t need to see it, but I guess that’s good to know.” Will looks at the wine shelves, knowing there’s likely thousands of dollars on each shelf. “Are we going to drink all of this in the next three weeks?”

“I’m not sure we could, but if you would like to try I do not see why not,” Hannibal shrugs. He picks up a bottle and wipes off the dust while he reads the label. “We will have much more wine in France than here, so there would be no need to save any of it. We won’t be coming back here.”

“Are you going to sell this house?” 

Hannibal walks out of the pantry with the bottle and pulls down two glasses from a cabinet. “Not that we need it, but it may be a good amount of money for us if we do.” 

Will accepts the glass Hannibal pours for him and remembers the night at the cliff house when Hannibal poured them each a glass of wine. Hannibal hadn’t even gotten one sip before the bullet pierced his body and the bottle in his hand. He shivers, remembering that night. How he just stood there looking down at Hannibal while he bled on the floor. 

“You should just sell all of your properties and we can buy or rent new ones as we decide where we want to go next. We can stay in your house in France for a while, but beyond that we shouldn’t decide just based on where you already have homes,” Will says. “Even if we don’t need the money, there’s always a chance the houses are found and the next one we pick has people waiting for us there.” 

“You’re right. We can work on that in the coming weeks while we prepare for another journey,” Hannibal agrees. He takes a sip of his wine and Will watches him as he closes his eyes, savoring the taste as if it’ll all go away again, as if when he opens them, he’ll be back in his cell. Will knows how it feels and he wasn’t locked away nearly as long as Hannibal was. 

It’s likely that not only is Hannibal touch-starved, but that he needs contact to feel like he’s truly where he is and not just dreaming, or imagining this. Will steps forward and takes Hannibal’s free hand in his own. 

“Should we go sit somewhere?” Will asks. He rubs circles on the top of Hannibal’s hand with his thumb and looks up to see Hannibal is watching the movement. 

Hannibal nods slowly then extracts his hand from Wills. He refills both of their glasses before finally deciding just to bring the bottle with them and takes Will into the study. He sets the bottle and his glass down on the coffee table and settles in an armchair. Will frowns and figures Hannibal expects him to take the armchair across from him, but Will really doesn’t want this to feel like a therapy session. If they sit in those opposing chairs, he’ll have an even harder time breaking the boundaries they spent years putting up. 

With a sigh, Will decides to just go for it and sits down in Hannibal’s lap, sitting sideways over his thighs. Hannibal lets out a surprise noise, but his arms come around Will’s waist, and he buries his face in Will’s neck, deeply inhaling. 

“Do you still want that kiss?” Will asks. 

Hannibal pulls away from his neck with a faint smile on his lips. He tilts his head up towards Will and nods once. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s neck and leans down to kiss him, this time not as hesitant as before. 

It feels right. After so long of them dancing around each other. It feels right that this is where they’ve ended up. Every single cut and all of the blood shed has paved the way for such a tender moment between the two of them. Exploring each other’s mouths, hands trailing up Will’s back and neck, lips eventually moving from his mouth to kiss down his chin, along his jaw, then attaching to his neck. 

Will gasps as Hannibal starts to suck on his neck and one of his hands tangles in Hannibal’s hair, ready to pull him away, but all he can do is pull him closer. Knowing it’s going to bruise, he attempts to tell Hannibal not to, but the words are lost to a cry when Hannibal’s teeth sink into the skin. 

“We should, ah, go upstairs,” Will gets out instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments and kudos please.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading from my phone which I don’t normally do so I am hoping the formatting is okay. Not proofread. This chapter was a hard one because my writing motivation is leaving me & I will be taking a short break from uploading until I can get myself back on track. Please tell me what you think of this chapter. Comments keep me going.

Despite Will’s eagerness in the study, when they make it upstairs, they don’t have sex. They get as far as Hannibal pulling Will’s shirt over his head, placing kisses down his throat, his collarbone, his chest, Hannibal hovering over Will’s bare torso as Will lays on the bed. 

They don’t get much further because sometime after that, when one of Hannibal’s hands trails over the scar on Will’s stomach, the other hand cupping his cheek firmly, it’s too familiar. Will is back in the kitchen in Baltimore, a hand on his cheek as Hannibal slices open his stomach. 

He feels too much, way more than he had that night. This isn’t just his own trauma pushing into the forefront of his mind, but some outside source of emotions as well. It’s as if he and Hannibal were both thinking of it at the same time, intensifying the flashback and the pain. 

Will’s hands fly to his stomach to try and hold it together, trying to apply pressure to stop the blood as he falls to the floor, but he’s not falling, he’s not bleeding. He’s laying in a bed, years later, wound completely healed, albeit scarred. 

Trembling, still, as he comes back to himself, back to their shared bed in Cuba, no blood to be seen, no Baltimore kitchen surrounding him, he sees that Hannibal has pulled away entirely. Now sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands in his own lap, unsure what to do, what kind of touch would be acceptable now. 

Will’s no longer aroused like he had been sitting in Hannibal’s lap in the study. He feels like he has ruined their moment with his inability to move on. 

Hannibal just regards him like he might break if Hannibal stares too hard or tries to touch him again. Will figures Hannibal probably knows the exact reason for Will’s shift in mood. 

Will takes a few steadying breaths and reaches out his hand for Hannibal to come back, but Hannibal just stays where he is on the edge of the bed. 

“Come back. I’m fine,” Will tells him. “Sorry, I’m. I don’t know what happened.”

Hannibal shakes his head. “I do. Don’t apologize for that.” 

His voice is quiet, but firm and he still makes no attempt to get any closer to Will. 

“Just come here. We don’t have to do anything, just stop looking at me like I’m going to shatter, for fucks sake,” Will urges. He reaches farther and grabs one of Hannibal’s hands where it rests in his lap. He pulls as hard as he can and brings Hannibal back so he’s laying over Will’s body. He braces himself on his elbows and knees, inches above Will’s body. Not quite touching. 

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s middle and pulls him down, grunting when Hannibal finally rests his whole weight on Will’s body. Hannibal puts his face in the crook of Will’s neck and Will is grateful that Hannibal isn’t expecting eye contact for this conversation. 

“It was a freak thing,” Will starts. “I clearly have to stop making such negative associations with you touching certain parts of me.” 

“I just will not touch you anymore,” Hannibal whispers. “If sex is going to be a problem, or really any intimacy where I may touch any of the scars I have given you, I can live with going without.” 

“No,” Will says firmly. “No, we’re going to get there, just not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. We will, though.” 

Hannibal hums into Will’s neck and lifts his head to look in Will’s eyes. Will makes himself meet Hannibal’s gaze and he tilts his head up so he can place a kiss on Hannibal’s chin. 

“Were you thinking about that night when you touched me like that?” Will asks quietly. 

Hannibal closes his eyes and nods. 

“I thought so,” Will whispers. “It felt like outside emotions. Did you want me to see that?”

Hannibal shakes his head. “Not in that way, no. I want to be more honest with you and let my guard down in a way that you can know what I am feeling, but I did not want that particular thing to slip through the cracks.” 

“Well, it did.”

“Yes, it did.” 

Hannibal rolls off of Will and lays on his back next to him. Will turns on his side and watches Hannibal as he stares at the ceiling. It feels like the first time they shared a bed together, all those nights ago on their first boat. That feels like a lifetime ago. 

Will knows Hannibal is still hard, felt him along his thigh just a moment ago. He’s likely trying to make his erection go away by sheer willpower alone. Will wants to get him off, knowing it’s his own fault they had to stop, but he knows Hannibal will just swat his hand away. 

Instead, Will reaches out and takes hold of one of Hannibal’s hands and brings them to his lips so he can kiss Hannibal’s knuckles. Like Hannibal had done on the boat. 

“I don’t wish to cause you pain any longer, Will,” Hannibal whispers after a few minutes. 

“I know. You’ve told me and I believe you,” Will says. He rolls closer to Hannibal and rests his head on his shoulder. “We’re both overtired. It was probably a bad idea to even try right now.”

Hannibal hums in response, but doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t think it’ll always be this way, Hannibal.” 

Will rolls over and gets out of bed, pulling off his pants and throwing them into the laundry basket. He goes into the bathroom and washes his face, remembering Abigail’s makeup from earlier. He brings a wet cloth back to the bedroom to wipe away the makeup on Hannibal’s face, revealing the bruises he had given him. 

Hannibal keeps his eyes closed the entire time, pushes up into Will’s touch. Will’s heart aches. Will aches for Hannibal. Every inch of his body is screaming to try again, to undress Hannibal and kiss him all over, to be _closer_ to him. 

Standing there in just his boxers, wiping away the makeup, Will starts to feel exposed, but not exposed enough. Too exposed because Hannibal is still fully clothed, but not exposed enough because he aches for both of them to be naked. 

Will takes the cloth back to the bathroom and lays it in the edge of the sink to dry, then returns to Hannibal where he lays. He just climbs into bed next to him and pulls the blankets up to his chest. 

“You should change into pajamas,” Will whispers. “Then come back and sleep.” 

Hannibal opens his eyes slowly and then gets up from the bed. He strips down to just his underwear and folds his clothes neatly, setting them on a chair, then climbs back into bed and gets under the covers. He lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

Will sighs. “You aren’t saying anything and it’s starting to worry me.”

“I’m unsure what there is for me to say,” Hannibal says. 

“Then come here,” Will says and he opens his arms. Hannibal hesitates for a second before moving closer to Will. He lays on his stomach, half of his body over Will’s, head on Will’s shoulder, arm draped over his stomach. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal and holds him there. 

“This is more than I ever thought possible,” Hannibal whispers after a long silence. 

“But you want more,” Will says. It’s not a question, nor is it quite a statement, either. He adds, “I want more.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agrees. “If it takes time, I am more than okay with that. I may not have been the best psychiatrist, but I am fully aware that trauma doesn’t just go away.” 

“No,” Will agrees. “It doesn’t.” 

Hannibal pushes his face into Will’s chest and Will tangles his fingers in graying hair. 

“We can continue this conversation later, if you don’t mind. I have not slept more than a few hours in the last two days,” Hannibal says. He tightens his arm around Will’s stomach as if Will is going to disappear from his grasp if he doesn’t hold tight enough. Will knows the feeling. He tightens his own arm around Hannibal's back. 

“Yeah,” Will breathes. “Go to sleep.” 

——

They both sleep through the night and into the morning. Will wakes to a knock on the door, Hannibal still dead asleep on his chest. 

“Yeah?” Will calls out, voice heavy with sleep. 

Abigail opens the door as she says, “I’m going to work. Just thought I’d let you know.”

When she has the door open she looks at them both, Hannibal curled around Will’s body, sleeping soundly as Will holds him in his arms. 

“Okay. What time is it?” Will asks. 

Abigail raises an eyebrow at Will. “Just before 9. But more importantly, it seems you got your shit together.”

Will grins and shakes his head. “Not entirely, still some things to work through, but yeah. I guess so.”

“Well, good. I’ll see you guys later. I’ll be home for dinner,” Abigail says. 

When Will says okay, Hannibal makes a quiet groaning noise. 

“What?” Will laughs. 

“Stop talking, go back to sleep,” Hannibal mumbles into Will’s chest. He lifts his head from Will’s chest and looks towards the door. “Good morning Abigail, we will see you later.”

Abigail laughs and closes the door again. Will can hear her footsteps retreat from the bedroom and down the stairs. 

Hannibal pulls himself out of Will’s arms and turns on his side, away from Will. 

“I liked having you there,” Will protests. 

Hannibal turns slightly so he can grab one of Will’s hands and pull him back with him, pulling Will’s chest up to his back. Hannibal drops Will’s hand so his arm curls around his waist. Will presses his nose into the back of Hannibal’s neck.

“Does this work?” Hannibal asks. 

“Hm. Yeah, this should be fine,” Will says. He kisses the back of Hannibal’s neck lightly and smiles against the skin. “Didn't expect you to like being the little spoon.”

“I suppose I’m full of surprises,” Hannibal shrugs. He yawns and finds the hand Will has on his stomach, lacing their fingers together. “Do you make the conscious decision to sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door? You did that on the boat, too.” 

“I just always have,” Will says. Leave it to Hannibal to notice something as mundane as that. Will barely even thinks about it when he gets into bed, it just happens naturally. 

“You know that dates back to the primitive days of humanity, when the strongest member of the family would sleep nearest the cave opening in case of an attack. Now, typically in heterosexual relationships, the man will sleep on the door side to protect his partner. I suppose in our case, it would just be a matter of who is the natural protector. Do you feel as though you are the protector between us?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re definitely bigger and stronger than I am,” Will says. 

He doesn’t know why Hannibal needs to have this conversation now. He would rather just go back to sleep and not think of the psychology behind which side of the bed he chooses. He doesn’t want to add that he just does it because that’s how he slept with Molly. Maybe he wants to protect Hannibal, even though Hannibal would be a better shot at taking care of any threats. 

Will has just always been paranoid. He can tell right off the bat that Hannibal is a calm sleeper, a heavy sleeper too. It’s probably best that Will is the first line of defense. 

Especially given the fact that Hannibal is a much more wanted criminal than Will is. A SWAT team would come in and have orders to shoot Hannibal on sight, but they would probably have instructions to just bring Will in and see how far Hannibal got into his head. Surely, though, if they saw the picture currently painted on this bed, Will the one holding Hannibal in place, and not the other way around, they’d see that Will is no prisoner. 

“Will. Did you hear me?” Hannibal asks. 

“Huh?” 

Will didn’t hear a word he said, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay Hannibal any mind. 

“I said,” Hannibal tries again. “That I do not mind if you feel the need to protect me. Though, if you ever wish for the roles to be reversed, I need you to know that it is fine to let your guard down and relax once in a while. I can and will protect you, mon coeur.” 

Will’s heart jumps in his chest at the term of endearment. _My heart._ Fitting for Hannibal to use it, with his love of anatomy and given the fact that he takes organs from his victims, while likely knowing Will knows some French from his days living in New Orleans. Of course, from a practical standpoint as well, seeing as their forged identities are French citizens. 

“Sure,” Will says finally. “But not today.” 

Will starts to feel his eyes grow heavy again, already having been awake longer than he wanted to be. He wants to roll over and sleep on his other side or on his stomach, but Hannibal seems to have put Will where he is for a reason, so Will isn’t going to move just yet. 

He falls asleep after a few minutes. 

About an hour later he wakes up again and sees Hannibal is sleeping now, his breathing even. Will takes that moment to let go of Hannibal and put a few inches between them. He really isn’t used to sleeping so close to someone. Molly wasn’t huge on being held at night, and Will didn’t mind that. 

If Hannibal wants to cuddle, Will won’t object, but he knows it’ll take time to get used to. It was necessary that night on the second boat when the cots were too small for the men to have any distance between them. Will had woken up sleeping on Hannibal’s chest that one day on the first boat. Both instances were nice, but it wasn’t anything, it didn't mean much. But now there’s more to them, it’s not by necessity or by accident. 

For now, Will just curls up on his other side, facing away from Hannibal. 

He’s about to drift off again when the bed shifts next to him and a hand collides with his ribs. Hard. 

“Ow. Fuck,” Will groans. He turns back over and looks at him. “The fuck was that for?”

Hannibal turns towards Will and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. 

“I did not mean to do that,” Hannibal says into Will’s chest. 

“No?” Will asks in disbelief. 

“No.”

“You wanna tell me what you did mean to do? I think that’s gonna bruise.”

“I woke up thinking I was back in my cell,” Hannibal whispers after a minute of silence. “Going to sleep in your arms and waking up without you there caused a moment of panic and I suppose I attempted to reach out for you, but I see I swung my arm too hard.”

“Oh,” Will says softly. “I didn’t realize. Has that been happening? More than just now?”

“Every time I’ve woken up and we weren’t touching in some way. That’s why I didn’t object to you sleeping on top of me on the boat. I needed you like you had asked for me. I do need you.”

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal. Part of Will’s mind screams at him to be cautious. That this could be some form of manipulation. Will is going to listen to the part of his mind that tells him Hannibal just needs to be held sometimes. 

If it is manipulation, then Will supposes that’s just part of their dynamic. He’s not sure how Hannibal could use cuddling against him, but he’s sure the man could find a way to do it. For now, Will just holds him tight against his chest and then both fall asleep again. 


End file.
